Halo: Allegiance
by Jacen Shaw
Summary: A crack team of USNC Special Forces is recalled to front line duty as the Covenant powerhouse bears down on the remnants of Earth’s crippled defenses. When lies are shattered and truth is unveiled, can one soldier's determination turn the tide of the war?
1. Chapter 1 An Unfavorable Start

"We are both well aware that your actions should have you facing a Class B court marshal," Vice-Admiral Nathaniel Hawkins stated in his trademark stiff tone, the report from the latest offensive against the Covenant displayed on the palm screen resting on the dark mahogany desk in front of him. Jason looked at the desk, tracing the delicate curves of its grain with his eyes. Real mahogany from Earth. For him, probably a month's salary. Or more. The admiral continued. "You disobeyed direct orders, obtained Class 5 weaponry without proper clearance and, in doing so, endangered the mission and the lives of _my_ men. If you have anything to say in your defense before I submit the necessary petition for your indictment, then by all means, please indulge me."

Most men finding themselves in Jason Majszak's current position would probably have smartly remained silent. The infamous admiral of the Crimson Star Battalion was always willing to see that any disobedient behavior was punished to serve as an example to all those under his command on what _not_ to do. 'Don't piss off Hawkins' was the golden rule that all in the CSB knew and observed religiously. Jason looked at the Admiral, reading the expression on the older man's face as daring him to speak – Jason wasn't one to turn down a challenge.

"Well, since you asked," he responded frankly, crossing his arms across his chest in a light display of contempt, "I see that you have the mission report there in front of you. Out of curiosity, how exactly did District Command list the task completion as?"

"You know what DC said about the mission," Hawkins growled, already sensing where Jason was leading.

"Yes, I know what they said in debriefing, but you have all the official raw data right there," Jason pressed. "I was just wondering what our total casualties were listed as for the operation."

"None," the admiral stated, his speech void of emotion.

"Injuries?" Jason continued.

"Minimal," Hawkins replied.

"Ah yes, and the mission was successful, was it not?"

"It was."

"Well then," Jason concluded, hiding the smug grin that was pulling at the corner of his mouth, "given the fact that this is the first mission you've headed in almost _two_ months to be greenlisted by DC, and, coincidentally, it is the first mission you have headed with the _Firefly_ task force assigned to you, I think you may have a difficult time convincing the council to court marshal the Lieutenant Captain of one of the most successful special forces teams in UNSC history."

Knowing that his bluff had been called, Admiral Hawkins leaned forward towards Jason, addressing him with diplomatic words that were betrayed by the menacing voice in which they were conveyed. "Given your new assignment here in the Crimson Star Battalion, you may not understand how we run things out here on the rim front. You may think that…"

"Oh, trust _me_, sir," Jason interjected, cutting the admiral off in mid speech. "I know exactly what you expect from the _Fireflys_. Simply put, it is fortunate for everyone involved that the expectations I hold for _my_ men are much higher." Before the admiral could say another word, Jason followed his disrespectful charge with, "Now if you would excuse me, I have some Class 5 weaponry that I have been instructed to return to the armory." Admiral Hawkins responded with an icy glare that would have made even a Covenant Elite stop dead in its tracks. His crisp salute not reciprocated, Jason turned and exited the admiral's office, feeling Hawkins' eyes burning lasers into the back of his head.


	2. Chapter 2 Foundations

"You actually said _that_ and walked out without dismissal?" Rachel asked, her mouth half full of synthesized beef sandwich. The only thing on the sandwich that was probably naturally produced back on Earth was the mustard, maybe. "I mean, we're not exactly welcome here as it is," she said after swallowing, brushing back from her eyes the loose strands of dark brown hair that had managed to escape imprisonment from the ponytail that cascaded down her back. Matching brown eyes looked up from her meal at the lieutenant captain, mild disbelief scrawled across her strikingly plain features. A look that would have likely been read as contempt by anybody who didn't know her rested on the thin pink lips that could display any emotion from surprise to annoyance. Jason had no chance to answer her question.

"The captain is just keeping up our rep," Joshua smartly stated, patting Jason heartily on the back in approval with a stupid grin on his face. He took another large bite of the biscuit in his other hand and smiled while shaking his head in amusement. Six foot four, 255 pounds and raised in the streets of Angola, Joshua was the team's heavy weapons specialist. He carried enough ammo for his light machine gun to provide covering fire for a solid twenty straight minutes. Jason knew the man could launch a volley of four spankr rockets faster than any other marine could reload after firing two. His optimistic attitude and helpful demeanor put him in favor of the rest of the team, but Jason could sense something deeper in the man that hid behind the friendly façade.

"Just because we have gotten authority to respect us through our not respecting them _doesn't_ mean we should flaunt it," Carlyle said, stirring the remnants of his macaroni and cheese on the stainless steel dining tray.

The four _Firefly_ team members were gathered in the relatively empty mess hall. Steel tables and benches were situated in military rows throughout the low-ceilinged, sterilely lit enclosure, each one securely bolted down to the metal flooring in case the _Artemis_ ever decided that evasive maneuvers were necessary. Not that the occupants of the warship would be free of any changes in inertia due to sudden barrel rolls or _Dolskvi_ maneuvers, but at least they wouldn't have to worry about being smashed into the wall by shifting furniture. Death by a mess room lunch table was not the way Jason planned on going.

"We could have at least started off our first assignment on the right foot, just to show there are no hard feelings," Carlyle said, finishing his meal and sipping a cup of perfectly black coffee.

"But there are," Rachel stated coldly, putting down her sandwich. "We're not going to pretend that Nathaniel Hawkins is not the asshole's brother." Terry Hawkins, the commanding officer whose questionable orders had caused the circumstances decisive in the founding of the _Fireflys_, was commonly referred to as "the asshole" in casual conversation. Far from an eloquent designation, nobody ever said that UNSC Special Forces soldiers possessed a candid finesse over the English language.

"So what's our next move then, Chief?" Joshua asked Jason, breaking the brief silence before anything else could be said in reference to the bitterness all at the table felt.

"We're going to play the next mission straight, given there _is_ one," the esteemed leader spoke, standing up and grabbing his tray. "And Certa," he said as he turned around and stepped over the bench.

"Sir," Joshua Certa answered.

"Make sure that you get those rocket launchers back to deck five before 1600 hours."

"Sir!"

…………………

Just over four years ago, during a suicide mission masterminded by the great Fleet General Terry Hawkins, Jason and his team was shipped out to the Covenant controlled planet Canastas in an attempt to divert their attention long enough to allow a Hawkins led fleet to strike at an important Covenant supply convoy passing through the sector. Of course, when Jason had been briefed on the mission along with the seven other Special Forces squads, none of them had been told the nature of their mission. Everyone agreed that what the general had asked of them was impossible – capture and hold one of the Covenant's secondary launch bases – but they had followed the orders anyway.

General Hawkins had received commendations from district command for the success of his raid. The mission log barely mentioned the 72 lives that had been sacrificed in order for the plan work.

Through either skill, luck or miracle, twelve members from the seven squads had survived the enemy ground forces and escaped to UNSC controlled space after commandeering a Covenant Skip Ship. Admiral Schenmet, Jason's former CO and officer training mentor, had welcomed the broken remnants of Hawkins' suicide mission and allowed them to reform into one unit that would operate under his command. Hawkins had never even made a query about how the twelve soldiers had managed to survive their damnation.

Schenmet had been generous in allocating resources to the group, though it could have been partially due to the fact that Darius Clayborne, the son of Walker Clayborne, a prominent politician back on the Earthen Front, was one of the twelve survivors. Darius was also the reason the survivors had coined their call tag, the _Fireflys_. Back on Canastas, after enduring a near 75 casualty rate, the Special Forces squads had managed to regroup and organize a sweep of the murky jungle planet to search for other survivors.

Jason and Darius had been the last two soldiers that were found alive. By then, a total of 15 soldiers had already been reunited, though five eventually gave their lives while fighting through the Covenant hangar to the Skip Ship. The only reason that Darius and Jason had been found in the misty jungle hell was due to the charged Covenant plasma pistol Darius had been wielding. Even though they were from different squads, the two soldiers had improvised a strategy that had kept them alive for seven long hours.

The duo had moved quickly through the dark jungle terrain tag teaming the Covenant scout forces, Darius stripping Elite shields and Jason tagging them with his M6D pistol, the barking noise of its muzzle aiding the searching human troops to pin point their location. After escaping the hellish jungle, Kelly Mortell, one of the survivors from Spider Force, told them that they had reminded her of fireflies swooping through the summer night air in Iowa back on Earth. It was agreed upon by the remaining twelve elite commandos that they would from that point on be known as the _Fireflys_.


	3. Chapter 3 Family

"Are you actually going to let him carry on with that kind of behavior?" Sara Lyn asked, leaning against the mahogany desk and gazing over the Nathaniel Hawkins' shoulder through the large armored glass viewing window. The meandering fingers of brightly lit star systems offset the endless dark space, reaching into the infinite black like righteous beacons of illumination meaning to lead lost souls to their final haven.

"Sir?" she repeated, reaching out to lightly touch the admiral's shoulder.

"Sometimes…" he said, sighing deeply and looking down at the deck floor with closed eyes, a movement that halted Sara Lyn's approaching hand, "sometimes I think about how it might have been different…"

"What could be different, sir?" Sara Lyn asked gently. There was a short pause.

"Nevermind, nevermind..," the admiral finally gave, snapping from his thoughts and back to the overbearing presence of reality. Sara Lyn wore a worried expression on her face as he turned around, but she did not press the issue, a gesture Nathaniel appreciated.

"What are you going to do with the _Fireflys_?" she voiced again.

The admiral took a deep breath. "We will leave them alone for the time being." Something in the admiral's voice seemed to ring heavy with defeat. The expression on the older man's face was worn down and tired, portraying an image in direct opposition to that of the perfectly pressed white uniform it was presented in. Though he was just over six feet when standing tall at attention, his shoulders were slumped and his chin hovered just over his chest making him look more diminutive than his military ID file would testify. Short graying hair was combed in an orderly military fashion but Sara Lyn could detect a fury of jumbled activity in the brain underneath. If she could only look into his eyes, she might catch a glimpse of his thoughts.

"It's obvious that they think you're like your brother," Sara Lyn started, moving forward gently. "You should…" Nathaniel held up his hand, silencing her words and halting her second approach.

"If they want to play this little game, I will not be the one to initiate it. I am under no obligation to explain anything to them. We need their talents for the upcoming missions and they know this. As long as they decide to do what they're told," he said turning back to the viewport, "we can keep all further conflict out _there_ where it belongs." Sara Lyn looked briefly back into the black void and let it swallow up everything.

…………………

For any normal squad, the mission would have been a death sentence. That was why the _Fireflys_ had been sent to the rim by High Command. Their impressive track record had won them fame, recognition and respect from both the military and civilian sectors of the UNSC. Reports of the _Fireflys_' exploits had been readily communicated to all corners of the human front, its consistent success bolstering troop morale and increasing recruitment rates dramatically.

_Four years is a long time to go without losing a man…_ Jason thought to himself while sitting in the briefing room. In that time, the UNSC big shots had learned how great an asset the _Fireflys_ were to their public front. Over the past year, the unit had seen fewer and fewer missions, each of diminishing importance and, consequently, danger. High Command had figured that the _Fireflys_ were too important to lose. Each mission they were assigned only increased the chance possibility that they would fail, or worse yet, lose a member. Simply existing the four long years with the same 12 man squad was a miracle in itself. The loss of even one of them could shatter the publics' perception of them being an invincible fighting force. What negative consequences this could hold was not something that HC wanted to test.

However, over the past four weeks, the _Fireflys _had been unexpectedly called back to front line duty, tackling missions that were more like those they had faced when first establishing their reputation. Knowing what he did, Jason did not disagree with High Command's decision to bring them back. Everyone knew that HC had for years wanted to make a major offensive strike against the Covenant. Not some pithy jab at their supply convoys or overrunning an orbital base, but a real full-fledged assault on one of their key instillations. Almost every battle up to the present had either been a hit-and-fade or ended in a hasty retreat and high casualties. The _Fireflys_ may have existed as a symbol for the UNSC's poster campaigns, but they were still the best crack squad of soldiers they had. For a mission so important, High Command could not afford to hold back anything.

The initial objective of the task was simple and fit the make up of the _Fireflys_ perfectly. The job was small enough that a 12 man team could tackle with minimal support. That was how the squad preferred to operate. Having been used like expendable toy soldiers once already, a type of paranoia ran through many in their ranks that made them very distrusting of those they were not already familiar with. It was also a burden to the group when they had to complete a complicated objective while at the same time protect any other soldiers that were working with them. It was much easier to keep up a "legend" status without having to worry about others getting in their way. _We already have enough trouble dealing with the Covenant without having to baby sit green recruits_.

Destroy the generator and don't die. It was a simple task. Without energy shielding to protect their landing strip, the small moon base of Horex would fall easily. It was only one small step towards the final goal, but it was a necessary one. Oh and not to forget that command also mentioned that it was absolutely imperative the Covenant did not transmit any outgoing communications after the strike commenced. It would not do to have the human fleet arrive to take the base just as a Covenant defense force also jumped into the scene.

Given what was covered in the briefing, Jason was confident that his men could handle the charge. However, Hawkins had had a surprise waiting for him: some military peon from High Command – a person whose authority Jason was obligated to oblige – and a Spartan soldier, the muscle would theoretically keep the _Fireflys _in line. The two HC lackeys had exited the room moments earlier. Everyone remaining knew Hawkins had them where he wanted them – under his control.

"I want data on both of them ASAP," Jason stated once the tactical room doors slid shut. Marcus had already pulled up the UNSC database on the briefing room computer terminal.

"Let's see," he said, his fingers skipping over the lightboard with graceful ease. "One Commander L. Simmons and one special solider R. T. Claver, Spartan division, coming up." Marcus made a series of keystrokes. "Heh, classified and encrypted, naturally," he mused quietly to himself, continuing his work at a pace that Jason couldn't follow.

Marcus was the team's trademark hacker. Every crack squad had one, and the _Fireflys_ were no different. Jason could never understand how hackers were able to produce such highly classified information so easily. Such a security focused body like High Command should have had much better digital counter-measures in place. At one point early on in their fledgling days, Marcus had accidentally alluded to some sort of hacker's "guild," but immediately shut his mouth afterwards and refused to discuss it further.

Marcus was from Canada, his computer skills all self taught. He had joined the military at 18 in the tech division, but transferred to the armed corps two short months later. At twenty three, seven whole years Jason's junior, he was the youngest of the _Fireflys_ Almost everyone he met would ask him why he moved from a comfy tech job to the front line against the Covenant. Marcus would simply reply that he felt he could do more good with his skills where they were needed; referring to things like hacking through Covenant safeguards that would allow Jason and his men access to the generators. Not to mention he was a crack shot with any firearm holstered at his side.

Jason had his own ideas. It was probably due to too many video games in his youth or something. He had a weird habit of yelling out strange things like "Ha ha! Just fragged your alien ass!" or "Pwned, bitches!" when mowing down grunts and jackals with his weapon of choice, the SMG. Everybody probably had their own ideas on Marcus' strange desire to unnecessarily risk his life, but as long as he did his job, Jason didn't press the matter.

"So Hawkins wants to keep us firmly under his thumb this time," Jacobs said, sitting back on his seat and propping his feet up on the chair in front of him. "His brother probably told him how best to deal with us." A splintered toothpick hung out of Jacobs' mouth.

Lionel Jacobs hated his first name and hated anybody who called him by it. Quick to judge and to hold a grudge, his opinion always seemed to differ from that of the rest of the group. Words like teamwork, covering fire, and "_What the hell are you doing, Jacobs?_" lacked meaning for him. After his entire squad was decimated on Canastas, he seemed determined to never fit in anywhere else. As far as Jason could tell, Jacobs only got pleasure out of one thing – his job.

Demolitions, or "blowing shit up to high heaven" as Jacobs preferred his title to be, seemed to be his last love in life. As long as he was blowing up the "right" shit, Jason had no problem letting him do his lone-wolf thing. Jacobs was a year older than Jason and seemed to resent being ordered around by someone his junior. Given that he had come from a squad where he had been the youngest, yet second in command, Jason's authority didn't seem to sit well with him.

"Or possibly it could be the fact that Hawkins knows that he can't afford to screw this mission up," Carlyle pointed out, offering another view to Jacobs' argument.

"Why are you always defending _them_?" Jacobs said, abandoning his comfortable position on the padded swivel chair and standing up.

"To keep near-sighted grunts like you from making assumptions that will cause _me_ trouble later," Carlyle answered in his calm, if not monotonous voice. Jason stood up between the two _Fireflys_.

"Jacobs, sit the hell down," he yelled at half volume, an order that wasn't refused. "This is the first time we have been called for a mission like this in over 18 months."

"Who said I even wanted to be here!" Jacobs stated plainly, picking a fight with the captain now.

_So the truth comes out_ Jason thought to himself.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded. Samantha Peiters, one of the three women members in the _Fireflys_, had a fiery personality that matched her brilliant red hair. She was constantly harassed about keeping her helmet on while in the field so that her fiery red top didn't give their location away to the Covenant spy drones. Sam was from Texas in the United States and would kick anybody's ass who mouthed off about her homeland.

A close-quarters combat specialist, Jason knew that she could take out even the largest marine with little effort; he had seen her do it on more than one occasion. Sam Peiters could kill a man 21 different ways with a shotgun without ever having to pull the trigger. The broomstick to her was like a katana to a samurai. Sam was now standing up right in Jacobs' face.

"You said you wanted to be here when you signed up for the corps twelve years ago," she spat. Jacobs crossed his arms and glared back at Sam, still remaining seated.

"Oh, don't tell me that you're delighted to be back out here, Peiters. Finally, after all our hard work, HC finally gives us the credit we deserve and then they pull this. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather be living out of fancy hotels back on earth, writing everything off on the UNSC's tab while only being obligated to wave to the public every once in a while."

"You've just gone soft," Sam judged, returning the larger man's glare. "No sense of duty." Jacobs laughed at her words.

"You may have signed up in this war to sacrifice your life for the politicians, but I am here for the one reason that hasn't changed."

"Spare us your sob story, we've heard it before," Samantha shouted back, rolling her eyes. The two soldiers settled for a bit with nothing else to say.

"Well I hope that is out of your system now," Jason said, re-establishing his presence. "It may be that some of us are not happy about being pulled from UNSC "public relations duty" to this, but either way we have a job to do." Samantha sat back down in light of her CO speaking. Jacobs remained silent but refused to make eye contact. Carlyle sat back in his chair, a small grin barely readable on his face.

_Even with your placid demeanor, you sure know how to rile people up_ Jason thought. _But with people like Jacobs and Sam around, it's probably not that hard._

"Got it!" Marcus shouted, apparently oblivious to everything that had transpired around him. "Commander Lylanis Marthquad Simmons…Lylanis Marthquad? What the hell kind of name is that?" Marcus cleared his throat. "Commander Simmons, age 45, height, 6' 2", yadda, yadda. Let's see here… Joined the UNSC ground forces in 2520, and earned decorations for service at Terra, Constal, and Harkword. Attained rank of _delta_-Commander after the Battle of Suns in 2544, transferred to a High Command post in 2547 and works under Council Dorener's authority in the rim. There's a bunch more here if you're interested." Marcus said, shoving the swivel monitor over to Jason. "It seems that this Simmons guy has been around for a while."

Grabbing another terminal, Jason took the information that Marcus had dug up and ran a search on Council Dorener. He only had to sort through half a data log to find what he was looking for.

"Col. M. Arthur Dorener, served with the 56th space ops force for three years before being elected as Council for the UNSC Federation Board in 2550." Jason's words settled over his men's ears.

"The asshole was in the 56th, wasn't he," Rachel stated, not a question.

"Exactly," Cord said throwing up his arms and speaking for the first time. "No matter where we go, we can't escape that prick!" Cord Roberts was the team medic. It was true that the _Fireflys_ had not lost a squad member since their inception, but it was the surgical hand of Cord Roberts that had preserved their unity many a time on the open field.

"We'll deal with that later," Jason said. "What did you find on Spartan Claver?"

Marcus frowned deeply at the question. "Either the information is somewhere that restricts remote access, or the information doesn't exist."

"What do you mean doesn't exist?" Sam shouted, her voice still tainted with anger from earlier.

"I mean it doesn't exist. I searched all the datastaves and there is no record or listing for any Spartan under that name."

"You're supposed to be a hacker. Can't you just find it in the UNSC archives or something?" Darius asked, as if he knew what he was talking about. Darius was the youngest son of Walker Clayborne, one of the leading councilmen on the World People's Committee and a strong proponent for bio-ware technology. It was through Council Walker Clayborne and his many far-reaching connections that the _Fireflys_ got their state of the art equipment.

"I said it isn't there," Marcus repeated. "Come over here and look for yourself."

"So what you're saying is that you can't find it," Sam insisted.

Marcus began to turn red. "If the information exists, then I can find it," he asserted with a touch of anger in his voice.

Sam sat down, taking the statement to mean that Marcus couldn't find it through some fault of his own.

Jason turned the screen off, crossing his arms across his chest and looking tiredly at the gathered 11 soldiers, not caring that the distain on his face could be read easier than a giant electrobillboard. This was the true form of the _Fireflys_, not anything they would ever show on the global broadcast or be written about in Military Mag Monthly. The invincible family that was praised by the inhabitants of Earth had a full docking bay of domestic issues.

Jason remembered back five years ago when he was still with _Hell's Army_. Now that had been a true family, each member always looking out for one another, the closest knit Spec. Ops group that Jason could remember. They operated as one because they had grown together as one, fought as one, and all but him had died as one. _The odd man out – just like Jacobs and his team._ _Hell's Army _had really been like a family for Jason. His older brother had been the second lieutenant in the task force. He had died back on Canastas, one betrayal of many that everyone gave credit to the asshole. Jason shook his head, clearing his thoughts before the unwanted memories managed to push through his mental barrier.

The family he was apart of now was nothing like what he had had with _Hell's Army_. This family consisted of step-brothers and sisters and far off relations from the different corners of the UNSC. Instead of the group taking the time to know one another and grow together, they had remained fragmented, the only unifying force behind their success being the hatred of the Covenant and the hatred of authority.

Importing 12 people from different splinters of the UNSC military where each had their place in their old family was more like dealing with rebellious teenagers rather than youthful recruits who didn't know anything else. It was true that most soldiers were being recruited at younger and younger ages, ages where they were less able to cope with the terrors that accompanied the few pen strokes they made on their enlistment papers. It was called the _empty squad _syndrome. New soldiers would enter into the military together under the command of some Sergeant or Captain. Through the psychologically binding process of war, their entire world would begin to revolve around those who they served and fought with, who they lived and died with. However, when entire platoons were wiped out by Covenant raids, the survivors often found that they had nothing left. No friends, no structure, no direction, no family.

The _Fireflys_ were a group made of such fragments. Back in their old squads, they had a place, a clear cut purpose, a certain level of authority. Being thrown into one group under one title had brought their names all under the same roster list, but not the same family tree. Jason was amazed how everything had turned out under the circumstances. His command was respected, even in the direst of circumstances. When on the battle field, any observer would have watched as they seemed to act as one entity, cutting through the Covenant lines with an ungodly precision. Jason did not know what it was about battle that brought the struggling family together, but it had worked for over four years. However, he knew that their lucky streak would not last forever.


	4. Chapter 4 Nerves of Steel

Commander Simmons and Admiral Hawkins hovered over the security monitor, listening in on the _Fireflys'_ conversation through the bugs installed all throughout the briefing room.

"It seems they have fallen back into their own roles already, even after being separated for two months," Simmons observed. Hawkins voiced a non-committal grunt.

"It looks like your handwork in the databases also was successful," the admiral returned.

"Oh that's nothing," Simmons said with a wave of his hand. "Any commander from HC has access to the UNSC mainframe. You would probably be surprised at the amount of resources a HC Commander has… Let me assure you, they will not discover Spartan Claver's identity, at least not through regular hacker channels." Hawkins remained silent for a moment as the two men continued to listen in on the _Fireflys'_ internal bickering.

"And what does Spartan Claver feel about this mission?" Hawkins asked finally.

Simmons chuckled quietly. "Spartan Claver will follow my orders." Hawkins nodded.

"Your launch is in 16 hours, Commander. I suggest you rest up while you have the chance." Simmons agreed, giving the Vice-Admiral a half salute and walking from the surveillance center, leaving Hawkins alone amid the blinking data lines and light screens. He lingered a moment staring blankly at the live feed dial, then switched it off and exited the room.

_A Commander direct from HC_ Hawkins thought to himself as he started down the hall. Though the position of commander wasn't a high designation by any means, being an officer within the ranks of High Command was something different all together. Nathanial didn't know if it should have been _him_ saluting Simmons. Making a Vice-Admiral feel uneasy concerning proper rank protocol was a task that few people could accomplish. There was something about this Simmons character that Hawkins distinctly did not like.

The hallway to his office was nearly empty with only a handful of random marines and fleet officers littering the carbon steel alloy passage, each one snapping to attention as he walked past. With a smooth hiss of pressurized air the doors to the outer room, and then his office quarters, slid quietly open then shut, locking him in with only his thoughts for company. Hawkins walked up to his desk and gazed out into the darkness of space, a habit he had just recently realized he had been forming over the past years. Only the hulking mass of the destroyer _Defiance_ was between him and endless black that wore a mask of glittering sequins. The guns on the capital ship twitched nervously about as they continuously scanned all the possible incoming vectors a Covenant surprise attack could originate from. Nathanial averted his eyes from the scene.

A smart array of plasma photo frames hung on the wall opposite the viewport windows, flicking through a preset album of pictures. Hawkins turned and walked up to them, wondering when the last time he actually looked at them was.

The current picture lasted but a moment, one of himself and his father standing outside their house in Old Spain. The house always needed a paint job but it was still home. Long tendrils of ivy had long since secured themselves to its face and hovered around the broad windows and front door. Hawkins' expression softened as the image slowly changed to one of his wife's sister's son. Jimmy, his wife's only nephew on her side of the family, couldn't have been older than twelve at the time of the picture. Little did the boy in the digital image know that a short eleven years later, he would meet his end. The next photo slid onto the screen, one that made Hawkins' hands ball up into clenched fists. It was a picture of Terry, his brother, from probably seven or eight years ago. Nathaniel accessed the digital album and erased it from the cycle.

…………………

Though the first mission had run relatively smoothly, Jason still couldn't force the knots from his stomach. Pre-launch always did this to him. The red numbers on the overhead counter ticked away. Ten seconds. Seven. Three. The gel dampeners cushioned the launch, but Jason's sensitive stomach could still detect the forward motion out from the bowels of the _Artemis_. Looking up through the cockpit side view panels, Jason could see the Crimson Star Battalion fleet. Over thirty capital ships floated through empty space, with smaller transport and maintenance craft skipping between and over them like small insects.

The V-class nova shuttle they were in had been refitted and specially modified for this particular mission. The cargo hold was now completely engaged, housing fourteen ODST "Helljumper" pods and the temporary Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Slipspace drive that allowed the ship to make small Slipspace leaps. Normally, Slipspace capabilities were limited to only the larger capital ships and transports, but research had been put into giving smaller craft jump capabilities. The only major problem was that the fusion core technology had to be miniaturized for the system to be able to fit on board, an issue that three years of research was finally beginning to solve.

Off to his side, Rachel punched Joshua in the shoulder, stifling laughter that was probably resulting from another one of Certa's smartly humorous antics.

"Focus," Jason glared. Both soldiers straightened up in their seats, giant grins still plastered on their faces. This mission was going to prove much more difficult than the last one which had, in essence, only been a simple clean up job. Jason knew that with the resources under Admiral N. Hawkins' command, sending in the _Fireflys_ had been overkill. A single platoon could have cleaned out the remaining Covenant forces from the asteroid base easily. The admiral must have known this too and decided to not offer it as a counterpoint in their earlier skirmish concerning Jason's conduct during the operation. Jason reflected and silently admitted to himself that grabbing the rocket launchers from the armory had probably been a bit over the top.

_Oh well, the other soldiers got a real kick out of it_, he thought, remembering the hooting and hollering they emitted when Joshua had blown the final set of security doors to smithereens. The marines under Hawkins' thumb were strictly held to every line of military protocol in the book.

The pilot, flipping several switches on the dash, shouted back to his live cargo. "Clearing yellow zone now, get ready for jump in five, four, three…"

Jason looked directly forward. It was time to get his game face on. Cold nerves of steel. An iron shell formed around his mind, a mental barrier more useful than the plasma dissipating armor that covered his chest. Jason had been able to rise in the ranks due to this, his icy emotionless determination. Nothing could shake him now. Nothing could stop him until his mission was complete. The strong, defiant man who had just recently told the Vice-Admiral to shove it, returned in full force. Nothing could affect him. The image of his dead brother's face flashed before his eyes.

No, not even that could sway him now.


	5. Chapter 5 Horex

From between the darkness and light, fourteen shooting stars scarred the twilight above Horex, shielded from Covenant radar by the experimental clearskin technology Beta Division had supplied. Not only had Beta Division supplied this, but also other equipment including the layered plasma dissipating body armor, laser tech communication headsets, and a number of other assorted goodies. Fiery orange and yellow flames licked up over Jason's HEV pod as it rocketed through the thin atmosphere of Horex.

At just under the five hundred meters mark, Jason felt every fiber in his body seem to become ten times heavier as the Human Entry Vehicle's parachute system ripped the pod from its subsonic flight to one that could safely deliver a human to the planet's surface. Landing with a jarring thump, Jason pulled the door release lever and cautiously exited the Helljumper pod, his trusty BR55 raised and already sweeping the dark trees surrounding his entry point. There were no Covenant patrols to greet him and the advanced imaging equipment provided by Beta Division showed he was clear of any large heat signatures for at least a hundred meters in all directions. It was a good thing that Lieutenant Clayborne's father was so well connected.

From Jason's data band, the 13 other Helljumper pods had landed all within one kilometer of his position in a semi-circle formation. Being the captain, Jason only had to carry his own weapons and tactical data pad. From the topographical data gathered by Navy Intelligence, Jason's data pad suggested that the underground generators were almost twenty klicks north. Jason sent out a locater beacon telling the _Fireflys_ to converge on his position. Meanwhile, Jason made himself scarce. If the enemy did notice the 14 blips in the sky, it would only be a matter of time before they sent an inquisition.

It took about ten more minutes for the _Fireflys_ to regroup. Jason was not surprised that Spartan Claver was the first to make his presence known. Shortly after that Rachel and Berry arrived. Berry, from Carrie, Minnesota, a combination that never failed to have rhymes made about it, was the group's engineer. If Jason ever needed a transport hot-wired or was having difficulty getting an antigrav lift working, Berry was his man.

The dark hair, dark skinned 5' 10" Sergeant had learned from an early age that mechanics would be his passion, after rewiring the dishwasher at the age of thirteen. Even though it exploded and destroyed every piece of his mother's china inside, nobody could deny that the pieces recovered were completely spotless. Berry's more current list of engineering exploits was much more impressive.

An expert in human mechanic devices, he was a quick student when it came to reverse engineering Covenant technology. It was his job to disable the shield generators if Marcus couldn't hack the system fast enough to shut them down. Of course, Jacobs had offered his services along with a satchel of self-adhering thermal explosives, but that would be reserved for a last resort.

From the surface, the large structure on Horex appeared to be a simple bi-level Covenant garrison. However, from the seismic readings that Jason had received from intelligence, at least 10 more levels were buried beneath its surface, with the generators resting under it all. In an attempt to keep its profile under the UNSC radar, there were no banshee hangars, no fields of drop ships or scarab walkers – nothing that would call unwanted attention to its passive radar systems and electronic interception arrays. Only two surface-to-space gun emplacements, linked with four orbital gun stations, protected the base from possible space or atmospheric bombardment. The base was a class-2 listening post. Jason wasn't even sure that its loss would provoke an immediate Covenant response. Either way, Horex was a system that would prove to be of vital importance if the UNSC was to make any further advance into Covenant territory.

The _Fireflys_ had been split into three groups, with Jason heading up Alpha squad. Command of Bravo had been overtaken by Commander Simmons, leaving Rachel in charge of Charlie. Though he had wanted to be able to keep an eye on Simmons, Jason had been forced to comply when the unwanted meddler had demanded control of a squad of men. The Spartan refused to leave his HC friend's side which was understandable but troubling to Jason. He didn't trust the two in regular life not to mention having to trust them in the heat of a firefight.

Bravo group was to secure and protect the main lift shaft while Jason's team took the generators off-line. Charlie's job was to cover them until they reached the generators and then find the relays that controlled the orbital gun emplacements. Jason was torn. Have Simmons and Claver secure the lift or have them guard his back? He didn't trust them either way, and made sure to keep a close watch over them from the corner of his eye as the team made their way through the shadowy forest brush.

It was close to two hours later by the time the team reached the outer walls of the listening post. It was still dark but the moon's dawn couldn't be but an hour away. Chatter had died down to a minimum given there was nothing to talk about. Everybody was expertly acquainted with the tasks that awaited them.

There were no sentries or guard stations anywhere during the slow crawl through the forest. Jason prayed that was not because the grounds were being patrolled by Covenant sweeper drones. If they had tripped some sort of sensor alarm, the Covenant was not doing anything blatant about it. Even the area around the compound was eerily silent. Just the tall purple alloy walls that surrounded the compound with sealed entrances every fifty meters stood between them and their objective.

Their small hike concluded, Marcus pulled out his data pad and began to attach wires to the nearest bank of blast doors.

"There's no need for that," Simmons barked a little too loudly over the com. Spartan Claver walked up to the door holo-input and rested his hand over its sensor. After a beep and a click the doors slowly and quietly cracked open, just wide enough for a single man to squeeze through, or more specifically, a Spartan in full MJOLNIR armor.

"Sweet as, don't tell me you've got a dedicated AI in there with you," Marcus blurted in a hushed yet excited voice. Jason's glare silenced any further words that may have been on the hacker's tongue. Silently, fourteen shadowed forms passed through the small opening and into the bunker. A row of parked Wraiths provided some much needed cover from the bright spotlights that shone down on the paved interior from the main garrison only fifty meters away.

The interior of the stronghold was about the size of four gravball stadiums. Off to the right of the main garrison stood a purple plated warehouse probably filled with all sorts of Covenant goodies. The left side housed an open landing field devoid of all mechanical life.

Jason ducked behind a Wraith and did a quick double check of his gear. The rest of the team followed his lead and sprinted to cover. Looking up from his rifle, Tara waved down his attention and then pointed up and behind them to a Covenant plasma gun emplacement that was mounted high up on the purple wall. Luckily, it was unmanned. Tara then pointed down to the next set of doors and the next. None of the turrets were manned at all. There were no guards making rounds high up on the perimeter wall nor were there any in sight outside the garrison. Tara finished her point by giving Jason a confused and worried look.

Something was very wrong. Even if it was a low-priority listening post, the Covenant would never be so careless as to leave it sitting wide open. Jason turned to consult the rest of the team. Jacobs already had his demo-satchel out and was attaching C-12 explosives to the Wraith he was hiding behind. Looking up, he caught Jason's gaze and gave his commanding officer a "_yeah, what?_" look.

Finished, Jacobs ducked and ran to the next Wraith, keeping it between him and the garrison's search lights. He was about to start plastering more bombs to the second Covenant tank but Joshua waved him off.

"This one's mine," Joshua asserted, patting the purple chrome body with his gloved hand. Jacobs gave his friend a disgusted look and jumped over next to Jason.

"The plan remains the same," Jason instructed over the com. "Watch out for any Covenant surprises though. If this outpost is fully staffed and they're all congregated inside the bunker, we could be in for more than a little trouble. Commence segment one."

Immediately, Rachel and Marlin opened fire. Their SDV-19 semi-automatic sniper rifles sent armor piercing rounds though the plate glass of the search lights. In five seconds flat, the twelve search lights pointed towards the east and south walls sparked and shattered. Neither marksman missed a target.

In the now dimmed light, Jason and his team made a sprint for the side entrance on the east towards the warehouse. More sparks erupted from light towers as the two sharpshooters each emptied their extended fifteen round clips. "Repositioning to the east wall," Marlin reported over the com after all their targets had been eliminated. In the dim light, Jason couldn't even see the two snipers running across the open concrete field. Thanks to the special LBAC armor, Rachel and Marlin blended in perfectly with the shadow engulfed dark purple wall.

Light-Bending Augmentation Coat units had been obtained, once again, through Darius' father's contacts at Beta Division. Even though everything the scientists cranked out were only beta test components, they always seemed to work up to the specifications they were listed under. The LBAC was designed to coat armor plates with photo-reactive polymers that could be adjusted to either absorb light or reflect it back, depending on the amount of electrical current that was passed over it. On the lowest setting, it could absorb enough light to turn its wearer a dark shadow in a lowly lit room. In the conditions now, it made Jason and his team almost invisible to the naked eye. The LBAC was a nice leap in the field of human cloaking devices, but was still light years behind the Covenant Active Camouflage technology.

"Set," came Rachel's voice over the com. With Rachel and Marlin carefully concealed away in their hiding positions, Jason felt much more comfortable. Though he never thought having two snipers in a twelve man team was a good idea, Rachel and Marlin had proven their worth. With their teamwork, they could annihilate a rank of Elites before they even knew where the incoming fire was coming from. Though they were originally from different teams, the two had formed a quick and strong friendship.

Rachel was from the _Copperhead Battalion Squad _along with Marcus whereas Marlin had served with Carlyle in _Era Force_. Even so, they had proven that the _Fireflys_ could function as a true team, if they chose to. Jason had heard rumors that Marlin's and Rachel's "friendship" even extended outside the professional sphere but Jason didn't care to know any further details.

"Begin phase two," Jason ordered, his back to the wall of the garrison. Phase two could make or break the mission. Though the simultaneous outage of half the garrison's spotlights was not enough to warrant a communication to the Covenant fleet, phase two was more than enough to get the coms stations up and transmitting.

The original plan had been for Joshua to launch an EMP disruptor missile at the communications array, but once he had spotted the line of Wraiths parked inside the base, plans had changed. The lights on the Covenant vehicle grid lit up as one of the Wraiths seemed to mysteriously come to life. Locking onto the giant purple antenna on the left side of the garrison, Joshua let loose a salvo of superheated plasma mortars from the Wraith's main cannon. Shards of molten metal rained down onto the landing field as the listening posts' only hope to call for salvation exploded into a melted mangled wreck.

"Phase two complete," Joshua's voice squawked over Jason's headset. "I think I'm going to take my little toy around for a test drive if that is all right with the captain." Jason sent an affirmative signal to Joshua's heads up display. "Acknowledged."

Joshua hit the boosters and sped off towards the airfield to cover the west side entrance. A raid siren began blasting throughout the garrison grounds. With an air pressure-changing pop, the listening station suddenly became shrouded in a silvery translucent bubble of light that reached high up into the air and down into the forest outside the high defensive walls.

"Base shields up," Jason called. Now they were stuck inside unless they could get the shields down. Nothing short of a 200 megaton nuke could penetrate the planetside shields.

"Main doors opening," Rachel's voice said in a blanket transmission to everyone.

"Seven E, fifteen J and a couple dozen G," Marlin relayed in shorthand for Elites, Jackals and Grunts. "Commencing fire."

"Negative, do not fire," Jacobs' voice erupted over the com, causing Rachel and Marlin to back off their triggers.

"What are you doing, Jacobs?" Samantha demanded over the general com.

"Ah, the poor bastards," Marlin muttered looking through his scope. The mass of Covenant troops was running full tilt towards the other three Wraiths. Three elites jumped into the giant craft while the rest of the group scrambled to the outer wall to the plasma cannon equipped guard towers on the perimeter. Jackals and Grunts dove out of the way as the powered up Wraiths moved to intercept Joshua. Just as they passed by the troops, three patches of C-12 explosives remotely detonated, completely destroying the Wraiths and everyone around them.

The sound of Rachel's rifle grabbed Marlin's attention and forced him to focus back on the task at hand, re-shouldering his own weapon and taking out the Covenant forces that had managed to make it to the defensive south wall. He could see out of the corner of his eye Simmons and Claver rounding the south corner of the building in wake of the deafening explosions.

"Move aside," Simmons yelled at Marcus, who was already busily hacking the side entrance. However, before Claver could access the terminal, the east door opened magically by itself. Screaming battle cries to the high heavens, a blue elite rushed out the door with a powered up plasma sword in its hand. Jumping backwards, Marcus abandoned his data pad and hoisted his BR55 to his shoulder. In a lunge and a sweep of its arm, the elite severed the barrel of Marcus' gun in two. A lethal downward swipe followed meaning to skewer the poor techie.

The Spartan Claver jumped in between the two, catching the elite's wrist in mid-swipe. The fear in the elite's eyes had only moments to register before five .35 caliber sniper rounds exploded through its shields and armor plating into its head. Claver wrenched the plasma sword from the elite's dead grasp and proceeded to walk straight into the base. High-pitched cries erupted from the opening as the Spartan cleaned out the room.

"All clear," a feminine voice reported over Jason's comlink headset.

"Tristina, see if you can hack through the safeguards and dig up all the coms data," Simmons ordered the Spartan's AI. Jason grunted as he led his team through the east entrance. The entryway was littered with the bodies of grunts and jackals, some sliced into multiple pieces. The Spartan soldier stood near a mainframe access terminal, allowing Tristina to access the base's network.

"They have updated countermeasures," the AI reported back. "It will take me five minutes to crack."

"That's too long," Simmons replied.

"System files are currently being backed up on level B4," the feminine voice offered.

The team's secondary mission included obtaining a data dump of all the installation's communications logs. However, if someone was attempting to backup all of the files, it would be only a short amount of time before the mainframe computers were wiped clean. Jason leapt into action.

"Bravo, get to B4 and kill whoever is backing up the files before they get a chance to format the systems. If you're too late, grab the backup and…"

"Belay that order, Claver and I will secure the data," Simmons cut in. "Alpha and Bravo proceed to the generator level and disable the power grid. Charlie, hold position outside the garrison and prevent any Covenant from escaping." In one order, the superior officer had altered the entire mission plan. Charlie checked in on the coms with an affirmative signal. Simmons turned to Jason. "Get moving soldier," he ordered. Jason gave the commander a dark look and then motioned for Alpha and Bravo to follow him to the main lift. Simmons and the Spartan headed down a separate hallway, probably being led by the AI in Claver's suit.

With Darius outside providing close quarters protection for the two snipers and Joshua joy riding around the base in a Wraith, Jason took the remaining members of his team down the lift to the lowest level. On each floor, the team of Special Forces fanned out from the lift and swept the hallways immediately linked to the main shaft. The toughest opposition they found were a couple sleepy grunts on the fifth level down who had either missed the raid siren or didn't care enough to report to duty.

After each level was cleared, Jacobs planted laser-tripped claymore mines for anyone thinking about using the main grav-lift. Once the team hit level eight, more and more enemies began to make themselves known. Even so, resistance throughout the complex had been far less than Jason had expected. Jackals and grunts were to be found around each and every corner after level seven, but they had not come in contact with any more Elites. Finally the team made it to the generators. Ugly purple blast doors at the bottom level were sealed shut, the red ambient lighting around their reinforced bodies signaling a dead end.

"Jacobs, its all you," Jason said. Moving forward, Jacobs brought forward his demolitions gear.

"Almost thought I wouldn't get a chance to use these," he said, pulling a set of detonators and a package of chemical explosives out from his satchel. "One open-sesame cocktail coming up," he said, activating the chemical imitator. Sticking the adhesive bomb to the center of the door, Jacobs and Jason moved back around the corner with the rest of the team. Three seconds later, the doors existed only in fragmented metal shards. Jason's digital visor cleared the smoke from view, allowing him to rush through the entrance with perfect vision.

Blue and purple blood was spattered all over the walls and floor of the room, matching the metallic sheen nicely like some crazy painter had decided to redecorate the halls with alien claret. Apparently there had been Covenant forces waiting for them on the other side. Jason stepped over the shrapnel filled bodies of two Covenant elite soldiers. "Bravo, hold this entrance until we return. Alpha, you're with me."

Jason, along with Samantha, Marcus, and Berry, made their way carefully through the Covenant explosion and past the next set of blast doors. The doors slid open to reveal a red Covenant elite at a communications station. The translator in Jason's helmet alerted him to the fact that there had to be a backup sensor array and communications tower planted somewhere else deeper in the forest.

"A Human fleet!" was all the Elite could finish saying before Samantha silenced it with her M80 Mk. I shotgun.

"Human fleet?" Marcus exclaimed. "How could it know that…?"

"_Majszak, why the hell are we taking fire_!" Admiral Hawkins' voice exploded over Jason's transceiver. "You were supposed to disable the auto guns _before_ calling in!"

"You didn't call in the all clear," Samantha said, probably wearing a confused expression behind her visor. Jason looked to his wrist display, calling up the transceiver log.

"By the looks of this, I called in the mission complete over five minutes ago," he said, puzzled. Wasting no more time, Jason called out on all team frequencies, "Bravo, move to level eight and take out the orbital gun controls ASAP! Charlie, we're still moving to take out the shield generators so it's up to you to disable the surface-to-space cannons!" Whipping about and stepping over the red elite's corpse, Jason led the way through the purple tunnels towards the generators followed closely by Marcus and Jacobs, Samantha holding back for only a moment to plant two more shotgun shells into the Covenant communications terminal.


	6. Chapter 6 Omega Point

Charlie squad had been able to shutdown the two StS cannons on the ground before they were able to lock onto any of the ships in the _Crimson Star Battalion_. Joshua's handy work with his Wraith had melted the guns' armored casings into a cracked out version of modern art. Hawkins had been pissed about the destruction of the four orbital gun banks. It had been his job to see that they were disabled and captured for UNSC military examination. Jumping right into their readied turrets had forced the human cruisers to destroy them with a light barrage of T90 missiles.

"Your equipment is your responsibility. If it malfunctions, it is still your responsibility," Hawkins drove. "Do you know how much a single T90 costs?" he asked.

Jason stood alone in the Admiral's office once again. This time, the blast shutters over the windows had been sealed shut in case of a Covenant retaliatory response. Jason knew very well the costs that the Admiral had incurred in the mishap. A T90 would buy a nice condo in Africa or a nice new civi-warthog. Jason also didn't take to being lectured about protocol he was already familiar with. However, he stood and took it, knowing that it was his fault that the fleet had been called in prematurely.

"Malfunctioning equipment or not, your actions are not what I expected from the legendary _Fireflys_. My brother warned me that you might try and pull something like this. You are dismissed."

Jason, who had remained almost completely silent during the meeting, turned and took his leave, the last comment penetrating his cool nerves and turning his blood to a boil.

…………………

Hawkins was pissed again, though this time it had not been Jason's intent. Berry had run a complete diagnostics on Jason's data band but found nothing wrong with it. Jason had ordered a complete evaluation of all the _Fireflys'_ combat gear as well. What happened on Horex would not happen again.

The _Firefly_ crew sat gathered in the mess hall, occupying one entire stainless steel table.

The Covenant armada still hadn't made an appearance above Horex. The dark space above the planet remained occupied by the CSB. "They probably don't care enough to take it back," Rachel commented. "It was only listed as a class-2 listening post."

Jason had other ideas.

"I don't like it," he said. "When has the Covenant not come with all guns blazing when they knew where we were?"

"And the listening post? They were running on less than a skeleton crew," Berry added having finished his meal before the rest of the crew.

"It's almost like they were expecting us and simply moved out…" Marlin suggested.

"But why would they do that?" Carlyle asked.

"It could be a trap to lure us deeper into their space," Cord gave. "I mean, we are a large enough fleet that we could really dish out some trouble. If the Covenant does know what we're up to, they could be pulling back to engage us where they have more than four orbital defense cannons." Cord's idea got a couple nods from the table.

"I don't think that's it at all," Jacobs said, right on cue. "It doesn't matter how many ships they would stand to lose, the Covenant I know wouldn't take a moments hesitation before slipping in here and killing us all ASAP."

Jacobs received a couple nods as well.

"Either way, it's been five days and no sign of them coming to reclaim the post," Jason said. "Maybe High Command knows something that we don't."

"When isn't that the case?" Jacobs returned. The table fell silent.

"So how are things going down here at the insect table?" Simmons said, walking up to the reinforced concrete support pillar next to the table and leaning up against it.

"Shove off, lackey," Samantha snarled, the fork in her hand pointing at Simmons' neck.

"Just seeing how things are going with my cohorts here," he said, giving Sam a wink. "Actually, the Admiral has new orders. Briefing begins at 1000, so you'd better finish up what you're doing right now." Simmons flashed a grin and then turned around, leaving the _Fireflys_ just under 10 minutes to make the meeting.

"A month's pay says he was supposed to tell us that earlier," Jacobs said. Everyone at the table nodded.

…………………

The briefing room had been completely full by the time the _Fireflys_ had gotten there. There wasn't even a reserved seat for Jason with the other CO's. Telemoniters had been set up in different parts of the ship so all the crew could listen in and Jason found himself crammed into one of the Pelican launch bays along with most of the engineering crew of the _Artemis_. Once the information had been unveiled, almost everyone in the _Firefly_ team looked over to Jason with disbelief scrawled over their faces.

They were going to hit Maranas Guard.

Maranas Guard was a gigantic space station that defended the Sylic Row, the main passage through the Siralus sector to the Covenant core planet Isesheen. According to the most recent intelligence, Isesheen was the planet that reportedly was the home of the Jackals.

Simmons had not relayed the message that a pre-briefing for selected officers had been sent on the Crimson Star command network for 0800. If Jason had known that, he would have been able to let his squad know Hawkins' plan in advance. However, given the _Fireflys_ were technically under Earth Command jurisdiction and Hawkins hadn't seen the need to grant Jason or his men access codes to the CSB databases – a typical courtesy traditionally granted to "visiting" forces – the admiral had instead elected Simmons to be their official liaison. Another sign that the _Fireflys_ were not welcome.

"Our main objective is to hit and run," Hawkins had relayed in his address. "We will be targeting their communication arrays, deep space scanners, launch bays, and, of course, weapon placements. This mission is not an assault. We are primarily trying to gather data so that subsequent attacks will be on an informed basis. I will tell you right now that engaging in full scale warfare with the enemy would result in our complete destruction. This is strictly a hit and fade reconnaissance mission." The holo-monitor continued to chatter on about protocol and precautions that needed to be vigorously observed. Jason ignored most of N. Hawkins' banter remembering the last time an Admiral Hawkins had sent him on a mission with such highly stacked odds.

…………………

Covenant banshees had watched _Hell's Army_ descend through the atmosphere, all the while spraying bursts of plasma onto the Pelican landing craft as it bolted to the drop off point.

"No use in getting to point Delta," the captain of _Hell's Army _shouted over the screeching of the Pelican's damaged engines. "Teams drop in twos and rendezvous at nav point Omega. Try and avoid the Covenant trackers. Blue group, now!"

Two _HA_ soldiers threw themselves out the aft of the Pelican, pulling their parachutes moments before entering the thick jungle canopy. The Pelican rumbled again as plasma ate away the right wing of the craft. "Green group, now!" Jason raced to the back of the ship with Kara Summers, plunging down towards the foggy jungle at breakneck speeds.

"Yellow group, go!" Jason heard his brother's group called and looked back briefly as he fell. It seemed that two figures had just managed to jump from the Pelican just as it caught a direct hit from a banshee fuel rod cannon blast. Jason's CO's screaming voice turned into static as the craft exploded into a hulk of deformed flaming metal. Jason tried to call out to his brother over the com but could not because of Kara's incessant yelling at him to pull his ripcord.

In an inertia grinding poof, Jason's chute opened, slowing him down just enough that he didn't break any limbs as he landed in the twisted tangle of jungle foliage. Jason shielded his face at the snapping branches he was being dragged through until his parachute decided to become entangled in a large unfamiliar looking tree and jerk him to a halt. Swinging himself over to a particularly large and sturdy looking branch, Jason cut himself free from the harness and dropped a line to the jungle floor, belaying down the side of the massive tree.

"Report," came a voice over Jason's com just as his feet met the mushy jungle floor. It was blue group. "Green Two reporting," Jason coughed, hoping he would soon hear his brother's voice echo his over the com.

"Green One, reporting."

"Yellow Two reporting for myself and Yellow One. One's com and helmet were attacked by a tree on the way down."

"Cut the unnecessary chatter, Yellow Two," Blue One barked.

"Sir," Yellow Two confirmed.

Jason was just glad to hear that his brother was still alive, even if he couldn't hear his voice.

"Proceed to nav point Omega," Blue One instructed, well aware of the fact that no others in _Hell's Army_ were ever going to report in again. "Make sure to…"

Blue One's instructions were walked over by an emergency call on a wide spectrum broadcast. Jason could barely make out the female voice over the sound of static and gunfire.

"This is _Era Force_ calling for emergency assistance! Our nav point is 43 by 17 by 99.4. We are encountering heavy fire at the south entrance to the bunker and are…" Static consumed the rest of the transmission. The yellow dots indicating friendlies on Jason's HUD radar diminished with each passing second.

"Damnit!" Kara screamed, "this is suicide! Even if they hadn't seen us coming from a mile away, we still wouldn't have stood a chance!"

"Get your head in the game!" Blue One shouted back over the transceiver. "We've tackled every mission thrown at us and we'll take this one on the same! We've already been to hell and back and lived to tell about it!"

"Yeah, but this is like eighth circle shit!" Kara returned. "The sheer numbers are…"

"The core's not paying you to do math, soldier!" Blue One shouted. "Now get your asses to Omega on the double!"

"Sir!" Kara shouted, hauling up her MA5B assault rifle to ready position. The two soldiers disappeared into the thick jungle mist, jogging towards the blinking blue icon displayed on their visors.

However, Jason and Kara never made it to the nav point. Nobody did.


	7. Chapter 7 Deception

**After I finished reading third official Halo novel, "First Strike," I realized that, in order to keep my fanfiction from contradicting the already established Halo timeline/storyline, an overhaul of the plot needed to be enacted. In order to clear up any confusion concerning the timeline, I decided that you should know a few bits of important information.**

**This story is set between the fall of Reach and Halo 2 for the X-box, the scene in the first chapter probably occurring somewhere around September 3rd, 2552 (Military Calendar).**

**At that time, nobody in the UNSC knew about Master Chief's exploits or the ring world Halo.**

**Given neither the books nor games inform us about when certain events transpire, (like when Master Chief returns to Earth at the beginning of Halo 2) I am doing my best to accommodate for possible inconsistencies should more information ever be released via additional novels or Halo 3/Forerunner.**

**It is my sincerest hope that these complications will not impede your enjoyment (or understanding) of my story. I invite you to leave reviews with constructive criticism as well as things/characters/parts that you liked. Community feedback is always welcomed and appreciated! Thank you for your time and your read. **

**Sincerely, **

**jS-**

**

* * *

**

"Sir," Marcus implored, tugging on Jason's sleeve as the rest of the crew disbanded from the docking bay briefing.

"What is it Marcus?" Jason asked, sensing a note of urgency in the younger soldier's voice.

"Walk with me over here," he said, guiding Jason's arm on a path that would take them around the outside perimeter of a Pelican toward the docking bay launch doors, far away from any potential eavesdroppers. Marcus whipped out his data pad and continued walking.

"Back on Horex, I initiated a download of the Covenant systems on my own. I only got about half the data because something was going through the files and deleting them." Marcus took another turn down a space between two more docked Pelicans. "Now from the data that I managed to secure and decrypt, it seems that the listening post was receiving some really faint transmissions from a far off system. From what the Covenant at the listening post had hypothesized, these are the originating coordinates." Jason casually glanced down at the data pad in Marcus' hand.

"That's the _Sub-Sol_ territories," Jason said in a hushed voice. Marcus just nodded.

_Sub-Sol_ was a region of space consumed by nebulae and high levels of radiation fluxes along with black holes to boot. No human had ever seemed to think that such a volatile space would be worth exploring. However, what was startling to Jason was the fact that _Sub-Sol_ was only three days in Slipspace away from Earth.

"I didn't know what I should do with this information after I decrypted it," Marcus concluded. "Should I turn it over to Hawkins or Simmons?"

"They should already have a copy of this information since they were able to recover all the data at the listening post," Jason answered, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Marcus shook his head.

"You see, the thing that was going through and deleting the listening post data, it wasn't _just _the Covenant AI. Claver's AI had gotten into the system and was already copying and destroying the data by the time I jacked in. I could tell by the residue signature in all the deletions, see?" He held up a screen of technobable that Jason could not decode into any meaningful sense. "Anyway, I decided it might be a good idea if we grabbed some of the information for ourselves for…"

"For what?" Jason asked as they rounded the fuselage of the final Pelican in the hangar.

"Well, I don't know, I was hoping that you would come up with something." Jason racked his brain. Covenant signals coming from a space three days out from earth was a big deal. He thought it over again.

"So what you're saying is that Simmons and Hawkins don't have this information?" Marcus nodded.

"I ran my own deletion program on all the data staves I accessed. I just didn't think that something this big would turn up."

"Why did you not turn this over to Simmons and Hawkins at the debriefing?" Jason asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Marcus looked down and answered in a hushed voice, "Because I didn't think I'd find anything like this. If I turn it in now, it might mean big trouble for us." Big trouble was right. Withholding vital information from a commanding officer in debriefing was a very risky thing to do, even if Marcus had no idea what he had had at the time. Marcus looked up to Jason as they rounded the last corner and headed back to the bay doors. "I thought that we might be able to find something useful to…you know, use. That, and I don't trust those HC bastards or Hawkins," he said. Jason smiled at the response.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders," Jason said, ruffling the dark brown hair on Marcus' head, a gesture that received a grin from the techie. "Now if only we could teach you how to use it."

Marcus stopped walking and gave his CO a hurt and betrayed look. Jason only laughed. "Come on, boy," he gave, "I'll buy you a drink." Jason's offer wasn't refused.

…………………

You're playing a dangerous game, Admiral," Sara Lyn warned. "A mission like this can easily cost you dearly." The moment the words left her lips, she knew she shouldn't have said them. The Admiral was already aggravated as it was and didn't need her telling him things he already knew.

"Then tell me, Sara," Nathaniel asked, "what would you rather have me do?" Sara remained silent. "We are the closest battalion to Maranas Guard and something has to be done about the amassed Covenant war machine gathering there." A special report from Naval Intelligence had suggested the Covenant were prepping for a large scale attack on a planet in the inner colonies. The data pad that rested on Admiral Hawkins' desk did not describe how or when the Covenant could have gained access to the stellar coordinates to attack, only a plan to possibly divert the Covenant's efforts, if only temporarily.

"There is no other fleet in this sector capable of doing this," the admiral continued. "The _Iron Claw_ battalion is over a week away and Spencer's band of ships could never pull this off." The admiral stopped talking. The entire mission seemed ludicrous. Nathaniel had never heard of the so called _Maranas Guard_ or _Sylic Row_ or _Isesheen_ but he had orders to follow – orders that he had not the authority to refuse.

"I just worry about you, that's all," Sara said, putting her left hand lightly on his shoulder. The hand was milky white and smooth and its presence grabbed Nathanial's attention. Long red hair accented Sara Lyn's soft features, large blue eyes glittered in the starlight and a small round nose lay over enticing red lips.

"If you worry about me so much, then you must understand why I am sending you to Bolarius," Nathanial spoke finally. The rest of Sara Lyn's body immediately rushed to his side.

"You can't do that," she started immediately. "Don't you think for a moment that…" Nathanial held up his hand, halting her outburst.

"Would you rather have me not go to Maranas Guard?" he asked her. Silently, Sara Lyn nodded, her eyes already glassing over with the glistening shells of tears. "Well, I'd rather have you not go to Maranas Guard. Only one of these wishes is possible, and you know which one."

Sara looked up to the admiral who stood a good six inches taller than her. "Promise me that you'll come back. Promise you won't die," she said, her beautiful eyes making Nathanial cringe on the inside.

"I don't make promises, I just follow orders," the admiral stated in a cold voice. Sara Lyn looked down, the tears from her eyes dusting the admiral's white uniform with her true feelings.

"I know," she said, her arms wrapped around his rigid body.

…………………

Hawkins had done his duty, telling the fleet that they were to enact an offensive strike and fade mission to gather reconnaissance information on a gathering Covenant fleet. However, even the Admiral had no idea what really lay in wait for him and his men. He thought they were going to lure a Covenant fleet away from striking against some inconsequential inner colony. If he had known the whole truth, Simmons would never been able to continue manipulating the man.

Simmons knew he was an expert emissary infiltrative operative, but the number and magnitude of illegal actions he had performed in the past seven hours put even his considerably questionable track record to shame. He was High Command, but he was also ONI. He was connected through a deck load of politicians and had the ears of full Fleet Admirals and Major Generals. He was everybody and nobody. No three contacts knew him as the same person though the credentials of each one of his personas would clear all but the highest echelon of security measures. Only a handful of people knew his true identity, one being a certain Colonel Ackerson, his mentor and guide.

Simmons knew that this was the only way to win the war. The incompetence of the admiralty had reduced the once magnificent UNSC fleets into no more than small bands of broken dogs, running from every Covenant engagement with their tails between their legs. After the disaster at Reach only weeks ago, Simmons was certain that if something was not done soon, humanity would fall. Now it had come down to this, an inevitability, but still an unfortunate one at that.

A small burst transmission had been sent through a series of ONI spy satellites, lighting up the communications boards on all the three ONI spy ships that were cloaked a couple hundred thousand kilometers off the CSB's formation. The garbled transmission seemed to originate from the Eridanus system but nobody could be certain. To the best of Simmons' knowledge, there was no reason for anyone in ONI to be out that far beyond the Inner Colonies. If it had been some sort of mission, Simmons was sure he would have been alerted to it, but the message that had been cleaned up from the static filled transmission was not something that Simmons could afford to ignore.

_The Covenant had located Earth._

Simmons knew he had to move fast. Colonel Ackerson had provided him with enough supplies and materials to destroy a Covenant armada five times over though he never used them before now. If he acted quickly, everything would be set into place and he would soon be known as the hero who delivered the decisive blow that saved Earth.

Security codes had been faked, failsafe countermeasures had been overruled and communications had been falsified. A long-wave transmission had been forwarded directly to Ackerson but Simmons had no time to wait for a response. He had clearance to act on his own intuition as long as there were solid grounds backing up his decisions. This current situation they were in definitely gave him the right to do anything and everything in his power to stop the Covenant fleet from striking Earth.

Admiral Hawkins' men were under the assumption that they were to engage in a hit and fade operation. Even Admiral Hawkins himself thought they would be attacking a fictional place called Maranas Guard when in fact, the encrypted jump coordinates were going to land the Crimson Star Battalion on the fringe of a Covenant armada prepping to attack Earth, given the transmission from Eridanus was the real McCoy. If not, the mission would just be written off as yet another ONI blunder, but to risk not investigating the possibility was not an option. Simmons was willing to take any risks necessary to protect Earth, even if he had to take the entire CSB down with him.


	8. Chapter 8 Disparage

"Re-entry into normal space in three minutes, plus or minus twenty seconds," the _Artemis's_ AI, Dietz, broadcast over the ship's intercom.

Jason and his team were not going to be needed for this space bourne mission. The _Fireflys_ could kill five times their weight in Covenant ground troops but were useless against even the smallest of Covenant frigates, unless, of course, they could somehow get on board.

Jason had found a place on the outer starboard main hallway that was clear of busy pre-combat traffic. The chance the _Artemis_ would ever be boarded by the enemy was slim – the chances of it being torn apart by plasma were much, much greater. Still, Jason was armed with a BR55 assault rifle, an assortment of grenades and dual old-school M6Ds.

Another soldier briefly stopped next to Jason, staring out at the chaotic colors of Slipspace by his side. Glancing over at the taller and more muscled man, Jason could see the top of a dark black and green tattoo peeking just over the man's jet black battle armor on his neck. He was a "Helljumper" ODST by the design. Jason had worked a few missions with Orbital Drop Shock Trooper squads. Of all the UNSC forces Jason could choose to have guarding his back, Helljumpers were top on the list.

The Helljumper looked over to Jason, eying the _Firefly _insignia on his shoulder plate. The normally proud and overly confident soldier caught Jason in the eye and gave the shorter man a slight nod of respect. The _Firefly's_ record earned the consideration of the even the ODST's, one of the most highly decorated units in the UNSC, no small feat. The only other unit that held more commendations in battle were the godly SPARTAN soldiers, mutant cybernetic freaks that High Command had turned on the Covenant like attack dogs. Jason stopped his thoughts before they went any further. He had to remain cool in lieu of entering a battle zone.

"Re-entry into normal space imminent."

A monitor with a red count down reached thirty seconds and the ODST continued strutting down the hallway to wherever his destination was.

"All hands to battle stations," Hawkins' voice thundered through the ship. "Ready all recon probes for launch. MAC cannons and Archer missile pods, remove safeties." The countdown reached five, then zero, then negative five.

The streaks of stars slowly reverted from lines of light to their more familiar pin point forms as the _Artemis _returned to normal black space – almost. A large red cloud rushed by the viewport Jason was standing at, polarizing the glass and streaking by the _Artemis_,forcing Jason to shield his eyes from the brilliant radiance that poured through the full length windows. The flare subsided a short moment later, just in time for Jason to crack his eyelids as large chunks of metal debris pelted the reinforced glass casement. A small UNSC corvette, the _Aperture_, was no more.

"What the hell?" Jason shouted out loud as the impact shook the entire ship. Emergency shutters immediately clanked down into place, covering the more vulnerable tempered glass with titanium plates, sealing off Jason's view of what had just happened. Klaxon alarms kicked in just as the metal shutters slammed shut, red emergency lighting filling the deck hallway with an angry blood red air.

Admiral Hawkins' voice exploded over the ship's communication speakers. "All hands to emergency stations code crimson. Initiate Cole Protocol. We are under heavy incoming fire."

_How the hell could this have happened?_ Jason wondered, his legs already carrying him in a full speed sprint down to the shuttle bay. _We should have jumped in just out of their range. Did they know we were coming?_

Another blast shook the _Artemis_. Jason increased his speed, slipping through the doors of the elevator to the launch bay deck. Code crimson, the battalion's special twist on the UNSC code red status, called for all available hands to combat stations. Even though the _Fireflys_ had been specifically instructed that they were not to take part in the operation, code crimson overruled all previous orders. Jason could count on his team assembling at the hangar, ready to launch the _Disparage_ upon his command.

Just like the rest of their high-tech equipment, the battle shuttle _Disparage_ was a highly modified assault transport about seven times the size of a Longsword-class fighter. A converted Sarias-class shuttle, both the interior and exterior had had major overhauls including the addition of multi-spectrum radar systems, state of the art communications systems, stealth upgraded armor plating, a Quad-Tilt engine array, and four external computer or human controlled auto turrets, each one boasting a magnetically-charged Class-A gauss cannon, an Archer II missile launcher, and 110mm high explosive trinate carbon chain guns. Almost all of the equipment on the _Disparage_ was either experimental or highly classified.

Bunks, cryo-tubes and even a miniature bathroom and kitchenette had been installed on the ship, residing in the space that was normally reserved for troop transport and Warthog deployment. There were enough supplies on it to last for weeks given the crew managed its resources wisely. The _Disparage_ had seen the _Fireflys_ through numerous close calls as was displayed by the energy scoring that still decorated the Titanium-A2 hull.

The identical reinforced carbon steel alloy hallways disappeared as Jason tumbled into the hangar as the _Artemis _took another hit.

"Get you ass over here now!" Samantha bellowed from the landing ramp of the _Disparage_. Cord and Darius were already inside waving their captain forward. Jason could see five other fireflys running from the port-side bay entrance.

"Prep for dust off," Jason ordered. Tara must have already been at the flight controls for the engines flared to life immediately after Jason had given his command.

"You weren't thinking about leaving without us, were you?" The voice made the hairs on the back of Jason's neck stand on end. Simmons and Carver walked up the loading ramp behind him. Jason looked behind at the incoming duo, seeing Marcus running toward their ship from the second level of the hangar.

"Of course not," Jason commented snidely, doing what he could to prep the craft for launch by securing down a large locker of ammunition. "Your posts are in there," he said, pointing to the dual doors that housed the ship's escape pods.

"You thinking about jettisoning us, Captain?" Simmons asked with a rising tone in his voice. More thunder rumbled in the distance from a location Jason couldn't guess.

"Sit in there and find out," the captain deadpanned back.

Ignoring Jason's challenge, the Spartan strapped into one of the shock cushioned seats built in the side of the craft. Simmons found his way to the cockpit, followed closely by Jason who didn't want the man anywhere near the _Disparage's _controls.

_Just great_, Jason thought to himself. _We can't get rid of these bastards_. The two things he hated most in the universe after the Covenant were now on _his_ ship: High Command and a Spartan.

"All aboard, Captain," Tara's voice rang over the ships intercom, her light and almost singing tone reminding Jason that she had once been a student of voice at Julliard.

"Dust off," Jason ordered, not even bracing himself for the take off. Tara's talented grace extended beyond her musical abilities and into her piloting skills. She could make any craft she touched dance through a crescendo of impossible maneuvers, skipping through Covenant mine fields like the fingers of a seasoned pianist over a passage of dainty thirty-second notes. Loose strands of blond hair hung down from under her pilot's helmet. The visor was down, hiding her delicate features from Jason's eyes.

_She has the voice and the looks_, Jason thought to himself as he roughly shoved Simmons aside and strapped into the co-pilot's seat. _Why she would have ever signed onto the UNSC military is completely beyond me._ Genuinely annoyed by Jason's rude physical contact, Simmons grunted and took up residence off to the side of the triangular shaped cockpit in the navigation controls seat. Berry slipped into the cockpit and slid into the communications post. Before Jason could double tap the control panel log-in screen, a huge explosion grew out of the bulkhead on the far end of the launch bay, sending out a spray of red hot shrapnel. Shards of superheated metal pinged off the hull of the _Disparage_.

"Is everybody strapped in?" Jason shouted back into the Pen, the area where everybody else would be securing themselves in.

"Roger that, Captain," Samantha's voice rang back.

"Tara, get us out of this hell hole," Jason ordered.

"Flight deck says it's a negative on the launch," Tara reported. "The main air lock doors have been breached. If they open inner gates, there will be nothing but space out there." More explosions rocked the ship. "Sir?" Tara's voice chattered, leaping up a fourth in pitch. Jason followed her pointing arm out to the air lock doors. Giant red splotches had appeared in the two meter thick armor plating, growing larger and brighter by the second. In a sudden rush of pressurized air and a deafening boom, the giant blast doors exploded inward, then blew like a hurricane back out. The _Disparage_ lurched as the atmosphere in the launch bay was quickly expelled through the ever-growing hole. Equipment, light service vehicles and men and women were sucked out the breach. Emergency shutters attempted to close but they were also peppered by blue plasma and melted. Outside the hole in the hull of the _Artemis_, Jason could see what was going on.

The broad side of a Covenant destroyer hung in the space outside, not half a kilometer out. Banks of plasma turrets spat fire at the armored superstructure of the _Artemis_, melting away tons of heavy armor plating with each salvo. The _Artemis_ answered back, Archer missiles assailing the Covenant destroyer's unshielded flank, tearing holes in its purple metallic hull and venting atmosphere.

Streams of plasma continued pouring in from Covenant ship. Blue plasma entered the launch bay, melting away everything that hadn't already been vacuumed into space. "Get us the hell out of here!" Simmons ordered even though Tara was already was boosting toward the gaping exit. Jason felt his stomach get pulled down to his feet as Tara pulled back on the flight stick and gunned the accelerator. The Quad-Tilt engines in the rear of the craft howled as their pilot pushed them to 150 of their safe output.

Dancing and twirling between salvos of missiles and plasma bursts, Tara snaked the _Disparage_ out from between the two battling behemoths. The heavy bass of the 110mm cannons resonated though the ship as a Seraph Covenant fighter skipped across the cockpit's front viewport, hot tracers tracking its flight.

Though the supersized cannons boasted rounds twice as big as conventional point defense turrets, the massive recoil they produced was a problem. On a ship the size of the _Disparage_, each round fired pushed the ship slightly off course. Tara had compared flying with the cannons all firing to trying to thread a needle while sitting in the middle of a tornado.

All the glass in the cockpit polarized as a tear-drop shaped Seraph fighter exploded into a fireworks display. Joshua's hollering voice could be heard from all the way in the aft gunner's station as the Covenant fighter disintegrated in the vacuum. Even so, the loss of a single fighter was insignificant to the sight that Jason now took in. Tara's fancy maneuvering had pushed them to the far edge of the conflict and she brought the ship around to view the scene.

"Wipe the nav computer," Jason said, his voice filled with total disbelief as he ordered the initiation of Cole Protocol, the destruction of all navigational data that could lead the Covenant into the inner colonies or to Earth. Tara informed the captain that she had already done so but her voice dropped off, stunned silence echoing in the cockpit. Floating in the black sea of stars was a Covenant fleet larger than any Jason had ever seen. The sensors on the _Disparage_ struggled to count and identify each individual craft. Over six hundred capitol ships were present, their number probably growing as new Slipspace energy signals lit up the sensors board.

"That's more than hit at Reach," Tara's stunned voice began to say, referencing the attacks that had transpired only the month before.

Most of the Covenant fleet could be seen hundreds of thousands of kilometers out, a silver shiny cloud of slivers orbiting around the gigantic space station that had to be Maranas Guard. The titanic perspective of the structure clicked into place. The carriers around it looked like toys. The twin teardrop shapes had to be thirty kilometers end to end. The IFF tagged it as the _Unyielding Hierophant_.

Jason could see flares of blue hot light explode as engines were engaged and the far off ships began speeding towards the Crimson Star Battalion fleet. Apparently, the fleet had managed to jump right into the middle of a Covenant fringe patrol, just far enough out that the remaining Covenant had to move in closer for the kill. The wrecked fuselage of the _Aperture _floating lifeless in space informed Jason that the corvette had not been hit by a plasma blast but had actually rammed into a Covenant frigate.

Given the close proximity, none of the human vessels had had clear firing solutions with their MAC cannons. Fortunately, the main guns on the Covenant destroyers had the same problem. Burning hulks of three Covenant frigates were free floating dead in space. A large carrier could be seen limping back to Maranas Guard, already halfway between them and the approaching wave of Covenant reinforcements. Another explosion flared up and polarized the cockpit glass. Cord's triumphant voice could be heard from the aft this time.

It seemed like the Covenant destroyer that had been flanking the _Artemis_ had been neutralized as well. Only a single Covenant corvette remained in fighting condition, its point defense lasers flaring wildly at the waves of incoming Archer missiles. Though the Covenant shielding had proven to be nearly impenetrable to high yield missile barrages, the combined attention of over ten capital ships that had clear firing solutions soon turned the smaller craft into a ball of molten fluid.

"They must have not had time to raise their shields," Jason mused to himself. "That's the only way we could have taken them out so quickly."

"It doesn't look like they even had time to launch all their fighters," Tara agreed.

"Sir!" Berry shouted from directly behind, "incoming transmission from the _Artemis_!"

"Put it on the speakers," Jason ordered.

"This is Admiral Hawkins to all ships. Encoded in this transmission is a set of nav positions that each craft with Slipspace capabilities will be assigned. Our goal is to grab the attention of every Covenant ship we can and then jump out system."

"Some reconnaissance mission," Berry muttered, "it seems like this thing was planned out from the start."

"Make sure that the Covenant is able to track your jump," the Admiral's voice continued, "Immediately after exiting Slipspace, jump to the second coordinate. From there, deepspace a transmission to HC on channel two-oh-seven-oh-five. You will receive new orders from there."

A communications pack with jump coordinates blinked onto the navigation screen in front of Simmons.

"This is bullshit!" Berry cried out. He was about to say something else but the Admiral's transmission was apparently not over.

"On a personal note," the Admiral spoke, his tone changing from stiff and orderly to one almost friendly, "I charge every ship here with MAC guns responsible for blasting at least one covenant ship to Hell before jumping out system. Good luck soldiers, Hawkins out."

Tara looked over to Jason, hoping for orders. Hastily, Jason bypassed Simmons' navigation terminal and brought up the jump coordinates sent to them on his screen.

"What do we do now?" Berry asked, staring down the oncoming cloud of Covenant fury in the viewport. Most of the smaller, quicker frigates were already adorned with hot glowing plasma charged at their bows ready to fire. Jason looked down at the coordinates on his screen for a second time.

"We find one that wants to play hard-to-get," the leader spoke. Tara nodded and pushed the engines to maximum burn.


	9. Chapter 9 Preemptive First Strike

Admiral Hawkins stood on the bridge nursing a gash that spread from the corner of his right temple across his forehead. Red blood had spilled onto his perfectly white uniform, decorating it in gentle curves of crimson hues that mimicked the yellow command cords that also hung across it. A white steri-strip had been placed around his forehead like a bandana, making the admiral look like some sort of ridiculously dressed ninja from long ago.

Luckily, the _Artemis_ had been the only still spaceworthy ship to sustain major damage. The other thirty-one capital ships had managed to dispatch the light Covenant patrol with ease. In their surprise, the enemy ships hadn't had time to engage their energy shielding before the CSB tore into them with heavy fire. Sloppy thinking on their part. However, the real fun was about to begin.

A facing of Covenant ships marched swiftly forward, their superior numbers matching the human fleet's by almost twenty times over.

"Firing solution," Nathaniel called out to the onboard AI.

"MAC hot at 100 and armed with one heavy round," a lieutenant called out.

"Firing on targets may commence immediately," a digital voice said from the holo tank beside the main viewing port.

"At this range?" another lieutenant called out. "They're still over a hundred thousand kilometers out! How can we hit them from this position?"

Nathaniel looked out at the approaching storm. "With that many Covenant ships clustered together, how can we miss?" was his reply.

One heavy MAC round was launched into space, joined by over thirty others. The human fleet had one thing going for them at least. From the range and relative size of targets, the human ships could fire at least two full salvos of MAC rounds and be pretty much guaranteed hits before the Covenant destroyers were in range to return fire. Covenant guns were accurate, but not _that_ accurate.

"Divert power from all non-essential systems to recharge the MAC cannon," Nathanial ordered.

"Dropping engine power to 15," the navigations lieutenant shouted.

"MAC at 18 and rising 37 per minute," the weapons lieutenant echoed.

_Too slow_, Nathanial thought to himself. _We must have sustained heavier damage than I thought_. Jumping into hostile territory had been expected. Slipping back into normal space right in the middle of a Covenant patrol hadn't. Lucky for the fleet, everyone had come in with guns and missile pods hot. It had taken some fancy maneuvering on the ship's AI's part to avoid crashing into the Covenant destroyer that had appeared only two thousand kilometers off the _Artemis'_ bow. Unfortunately, the small UNSC corvette the _Aperture_ had not been so lucky. It had barreled right into the side of a Covenant frigate, the fiery detonation of fusion cores destroying both ships. In a game of chess, trading a corvette for a frigate would be a wise tactical decision, but with a board was stacked so heavily, the UNSC could not afford to lose a ship no matter what the size.

"Impacts," another bridge officer called out as the heavy MAC rounds blasted into the Covenant battle formation. The lighter corvettes in the front took most of the hits, their shields flashing silver as the ferric tungsten shells slammed into them at half the speed of light. The smaller ships careened from their flight paths, two of them colliding with a couple of larger purple frigates and exploding. One MAC round seemed to have hit a weak point in the shields of another frigate, carving a gaping hole through the middle decks of its victim. The gutted space ship hung dead in space for a moment, then exploded as the engine reactors went critical. The shields of the other cruisers around it flashed hot silver but did not fail.

Hawkins starred intently at the MAC recharge meter on the front holo display. By this time, most of the other ships in the fleet had already launched their second wave of attacks. The Covenant ships were almost within firing distance. Thirty-three more heavy rounds slammed into the wall of purple cruisers. Shields flared, ships exploded, and another five Covenant craft were left derelict in space.

"All ships, full retreat," Hawkins commanded over the battle net. Though the oncoming force had suffered less than ten casualties, a good score less than Nathanial had wanted, he knew when to fight and when to run. The UNSC craft broke ranks and began to scatter, each moving to a clear point to jump to their predetermined destinations.

"MAC power at full," weapons control reported. Incoming plasma from the Covenant cruisers' main guns arched through space like a wall of burning flame.

"Fire," Nathanial ordered, no longer able to see the incoming ships beyond the barrier of red hot plasma. "Then give engines 150 and move to point oh-seven-two-dash-five." The _Artemis_ shuddered as another heavy MAC round thundered out toward the approaching ships. Maneuvering thrusters fired and the helm of the destroyer came about.

Most of the UNSC frigates had boosted away from the incoming fire. Covenant craft had already broken from their lines and were hot in pursuit. Archer missiles filled space as their explosions signified the activity of Covenant point defense lasers.

"_Redemption_ and _Tiger Claw_ clear from red zone," a voice called from a near by radar station. "_Sunfire, Peacekeeper and Stalker_ are now making their jumps into slip stream space." Green tendrils of light appeared out of the blankness of space, growing into an expanding flurry of motion. Two more UNSC frigates and a destroyer entered Slipspace followed tightly by a number of high-speed Covenant tracking vessels.

"Plasma reaching us in 20 seconds," systems reported.

"All crew brace for impact," Hawkins ordered just as the burning hulk of the disabled Covenant destroyer eclipsed the red wall of fire from view.

"Maneuvers complete," helm reported. Nathanial grimaced. His decision to fire the second MAC round had been a risky one, but it was basically a free shot. With the way the _Artemis'_ engines were functioning, they would not have been able to escape the first volley of plasma and jump anyway.

"Sir, the destroyer _Kirklin_ and frigate _Paradigm_ have been hit." Nathanial watched as the space around the Covenant destroyer's bulk faded from black to orange, to bright red, silhouetting it against what looked like the fires of Hell. "The rest of our ships have safely made it into Slipspace, Sir." Good news.

"Brace for impact!" the systems lieutenant screamed over the intercoms. Nathanial sat down into the Admiral's chair and strapped himself in. Emergency shutters slammed over the bridge viewports while the outboard cameras showed the remaining skeleton of the Covenant destroyer move closer and closer as the combined plasma blasts pushed its mass towards them, chewing through its other side like an army of metal shredding insects. The rest of the unguided plasma rushed all around the edges of their makeshift shield, filling the black space with a deadly red glow. The telescreens on the bridge flickered into static as the exterior cameras were instantly melted away. The temperature in the ship skyrocketed to over 110 degrees in mere seconds, procuring sweat from even the coolest navy officer's brow.

The _Artemis_ shuddered violently as a gigantic mass collided into it: the remaining superstructure of the Covenant destroyer. Two seconds later, the barrage had passed. "Shutters up!" a captain ordered. Screeching in protest, the titanium panes slowly raised from the viewports. One of the shutters only made it halfway up whereas three others were completely welded shut from the heat. What was left of the Covenant destroyer was a massive cloud of molten fragments. It had been almost completely vaporized.

"Engines at full! Get maneuvering thrusters up and running!" Nathanial ordered. Gaining speed rapidly for a destroyer her size, deck panels began to vibrate as the flagship accelerated to Slipspace entry speed.

"Sir, portside ventral thrusters are melted shut!" navigations yelled.

"Dear lord," a voice from beside Nathanial muttered. Hovering outside in the middle of the oncoming formation was a Covenant cruiser the size of five Destroyers. Nathanial knew what he was looking at.

"Get us the hell out of here," he said. "Navigations, Slipspace jump, _now_."

Nathanial had seen a cruiser like the one in front of him when reviewing the battle logs from a number of other failed missions. He knew that the monster in front of him could cut ships in half from a hundred thousand kilometers with its high powered laser, a laser that was currently glowing bright on the bow of the ship.

Half a second later, the _Artemis_ lurched as it ripped apart normal space and shot into the slip stream. Nathanial didn't want to know how close a call he had just avoided.

…………………

"Where the hell are we?" Jason demanded, their sort voyage through Slipstream space complete.

"Scanning," Tara answered, her hands skipping from the flight controls to the star map screen.

"Use the second Slipspace coordinates and jump, _now_," Simmons ordered, knowing well what was about to transpire. His order received no response from the _Firefly_ crew.

"If they took the bait, the Covenant should be jumping in any second now," Berry estimated, his eyes glued to the aft video screens.

"Contacts," Tara shouted, "but they're not Covenant." The radar was detecting large masses littered throughout the space around them.

"Magnify that," Jason ordered, pointing off the starboard wing. Cameras rotated and enlarged the image.

"Shit, those are AC mines, armed with HAVOK nuclear warheads!" Berry blurted.

"Incoming transmission!" Tara jumped, startled by the radio alert.

"_Disparage_, get the hell out of this sector!" an angry male voice sounded.

"Engines to 150. Scan for that transmission," Jason ordered. Seconds later, the shimmering cloak of a Navy Intelligence ship was plastered on screen. Thanks to the upgraded sensor array, the _Disparage_ was able to find the gravity signatures of anything bigger than a class 12 asteroid. The hidden cruiser was much larger than that and lit up the grav-boards like Christmas.

"We have hostiles!" Rachel yelled from the Pen.

Twelve Seraph fighters blinked onto the radar, along with a Covenant carrier, a pair of destroyers and a contingency of corvettes. Immediately, a cube of eight HAVOK nuclear bombs detonated, explosions washing over the unsuspecting Covenant ships that had just jumped into the center of their deadly formation. The shockwave and EMP blasted outward, thrashing the _Disparage_ around like a leaf in a hurricane. Jason's helmet cracked hard against the control station. Everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10 Memories

The jungle of Canastas was suffocating, a heavy mist of humidity and other trace particles overloading Jason's respirator. He tore off his helmet and tossed it to the ground after removing the comlink and securing it around his ear.

"What are you doing?" Kara spat, on edge, something that made her become annoyed at the slightest thing.

"I can't breathe in that fishbowl," Jason answered, inhaling his first full breath of humid jungle air and coughing as a result.

"Fine," the younger woman replied, not caring enough to get into a shouting match over a helmet. It probably wouldn't matter anyway.

"Blue team," a voice crackled over the com. "We have Spartan-034a on our sensors but we are not getting any response. Permission to investigate, over." There was no reply. "Blue team, acknowledge request, over."

"Shit, they got 'em," Kara cursed, searching for their comrades' identification tags on the hand held radar.

"Yellow team, acknowledge, Blue team is MIA, over," Jason responded.

"Roger," Yellow One returned. "Moving to landsat point three by seven by oh-eight."

"Acknowledged."

The com fell silent. "What now?" Jason asked, turning toward his teammate, who also happened to be his superior.

"Omega," she said as if he had forgotten.

"Have you heard what has been going over the battlecom at all?" Jason demanded. "Nobody is going to make it to Omega point! What you're talking about is a one way ticket to the names database." Jason's reference to the database with the names of all the KIA and MIA soldiers, a listing that held the names of Kara's two brothers and father, sent her off on the Petty Officer.

"I'm following orders and you will follow them too," she returned in a voice that could melt steel. Jason shook his head.

"No, I'm headed to three seven eight," he said, bringing up the coordinates of Yellow team on his data band. Without another word, he turned his back and marched off, his first act of disobedience, and consequently, insubordination, an act that would be a precedent for the rest of his military career.

Tall leafy plants shot into the air, blooming with flowers whose petals could completely engulf Jason like a burrito shell. Jason's stomach rumbled. _Man, I shouldn't have had those mess hall burritos_, he thought to himself, climbing over a small ridge and sliding down its bank into a slow moving stream.

Jason hadn't run into any Covenant forces, nor any of the creatures that were said to be lurking around on the planet's surface. _Probably all exterminated by the Covenant when they took this miserable rock._ Even so, the soldier kept his rifle trained on the water he was wading through should anything unfriendly and hungry poke its head or a tentacle out from under the moving surface.

The data band on Jason's right wrist indicated he was only about a gravball stadium's distance away from where the Spartan was reported to be.

"Yellow team," he said, his hands cupped around the microphone to muffle the sound. Jason was getting used to having no responses to his inquiries. Even if Yellow Two had been killed, that didn't mean that his brother was dead. Either way, he was going to find him. Looking at his data band, Jason noticed that Kara's beacon was not on his radar. Last he knew she had been making her way towards Omega point. Checking the screen again and wiping off the condensation that had formed on it, Jason realized that all his readings were skewed. Something was wrong. Walking through another row of giant leafy plants, Jason froze, finding a clear plain in front of him and beyond fifty meters beyond, a massive Covenant storage facility.

The facility was at least seven stories tall, constructed out of the familiar purple alloy and molded into sweeping, organic-looking curves. Large picture windows dotted its outer walls and giant blast doors surrounded its base.

Diving to the ground, Jason readied his rifle and scanned the perimeter. There were no moving targets within sight, but his radar and scanners were still jumping off the chart. Something about the facility must be disrupting his equipment.

"Green Two moving to point three by seven by point oh-eight," Jason reported over the com, not even sure if the transmission would even be received. Looking both ways twice, Jason bolted from his position and up to the nearest door on the facility. As he got closer, Jason noticed that the control panel to the door had been cut through, live wires dangling out of the pedestal.

_Someone's been here_, Jason said to himself, _someone lacking the proper access codes to get in..._ It must have been either the Spartan that had been sent in on the mission or Yellow team. Reaching into the sparking wires, Jason grabbed two severed ends and brought them together. With a lurch, the nearest blast doors slid open. Running quickly, Jason slid through just as they slammed shut.

Looking around the long purple hall that ran along the outside of the building in both directions, Jason had no clue which way to go. He tried his com again but a screeching howl of static caused him to rip the ear piece from his head. Along the hallway's inner wall, giant glass viewing windows were installed at ten meter intervals. Running up to the nearest one, Jason discovered why his gear was malfunctioning: the storage facility was housing gigantic Covenant energy cores. The powerful radiation was enough to bend communication waves and completely scramble sensors. His attention was so focused on the cores that Jason's heart skipped a beat when he realized what else was in the storage chamber.

An elite in armor he had never seen before stood amid a formation of Grunts, their green plasma pistols powered up and shimmering. On the other side of the chamber was Spartan 034a and Eugene, Jason's older brother. It seemed like there was a conversation happening inside but Jason couldn't make out a word of it through the sound proof glass. Eugene's expression was gripped with panic. He hid behind the muzzle of his pointed MA2B assault rifle, tracking back and forth across the Covenant line. There was more conversation. Then, quickly and deliberately, the Spartan soldier raised its weapon, pointing the muzzle of a pistol level with Eugene's head. Jason flew to the window, pounding on the pane with the butt of his rifle to no avail.

7.62mm rounds zinged off the reinforced glass. The noise and spider web cracks attracted the attention of the Covenant and humans inside…well, if the Spartan could be considered human. Jason ceased firing and slammed his rifle into the glass again. Still nothing. Looking past the splintered cracks of the glass, Jason could see his brother mouthing something to him.

"_RUN_"

From Eugene's hand rolled a standard issue Marine fragmentation grenade, minus the pin. It lazily tumbled across the duracrete ground, bouncing between a pair of active energy cores. The flare of the Spartan's pistol lit up in Jason's eyes as his older brother fell to the ground, lifeless. Jason was thrown into a state of mental shock but his body knew what to do. Both the murderous Spartan and Covenant inside the facility made a mad dash for the exits. So did Jason. Tumbling out the exterior door, Jason was almost run over by a patrolling Covenant Ghost piloted by an unwary elite.

Surprised by the figure rolling out of the facility right in front of his craft, the elite couldn't see that it was in fact a human figure and not one of his own before swerving and running into a bank of defense Shades. Flying over the engine of the Ghost, the Elite flew through the air and into the side of the storage building, its shields failing as it crashed to the ground head first.

Not wasting a moment, Jason ran up and mounted the Ghost vehicle, orienting its nose toward the forest and slamming on the boost. The chain of explosions came seconds later, blowing the top section of the facility clear into the sky. Huge chunks of the structure flew past Jason's Ghost. A sizeable fragment of permacrete struck Jason in the back of his head, making the vision of the jungle speeding towards him explode into red.


	11. Chapter 11 Sacrifices

The _Artemis_ jumped into dark black space, surrounded by a field of HAVOK nuclear warheads, just like the thirty some other ships had probably already done. To keep such vital mission information from his own men sparked a twinge of guilt in Nathanial, but if something as imperative as the location of an inner colony had been discovered or worse yet, been _leaked_ to the Covenant, security and secrecy had to be maintained in the highest degree, even if that meant pulling the wool over his own men's eyes.

"Did any of them manage to follow us?" Nathanial immediately questioned, waiting for a response from the aft of the ship. Their exterior sensors and communications antenna had been completely melted away. Hopefully, the aft viewports had managed to disengage their emergency shutters and lookouts could see if anything jumped in behind them.

"Maintain speed and ready the Translight generators for another jump. Use map coordinates number two."

"Sir, Covenant!" came a transmission from the aft decks. "It looks like we lured a heap of them in." The _Artemis _was the flagship of the CSB, and in its damaged state, not something the Covenant could pass up. With her engines above the redline of maximum burn, the vessel had put enough space between itself and the nuclear mine field to be safely out of range.

Eight nuclear HAVOK charges detonated as two destroyers, seven frigates and a docking station full of corvettes entered normal space. Even though they had their shields raised and ready, the combined force of the nuclear devices overwhelmed their defenses, turning the once pristine ships into crispy charred pieces inside the expanding bubble of nuclear fusion.

"Are there any survivors?" Nathanial demanded, realizing that with their sensors down, his guess was as good as any with all the interference the explosions had caused.

"Admiral, Covenant cruiser of unknown class entering normal space, five-o-clock!"

Jumping in nearly a thirty seconds after its friends, the gigantic Covenant flagship reverted to normal space, half a million kilometers short of the molten cloud of fragments that used to be the enemy pursuit force.

"Bring us up to speed, new bearing seven-six-seven." A picture of the Covenant craft appeared on the bridge main screen. Someone had grabbed one of the internal security cameras from the aft deck and positioned it out a rear viewport. Barreling through the haze of debris that lit up its shields like a bonfire, the Covenant giant began to run down the much smaller USNC destroyer like a firestorm from Hell.

"Sir!" the communications lieutenant shouted. "Incoming transmission!"

Given the long range antenna had been melted into slag, the signal must have been coming from in-system.

"Admiral Hawkins, you are to change your exit vector to bearing zero-zero-three-seven by eight-two-eight." The encryption code the transmission boasted was that of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Even if their sensors had been in working order, Nathanial knew he wouldn't have been able to track the incoming message to its source.

"Do what they say," he affirmed, then added, "on the double."

The helm of the _Artemis_ repositioned according to the new departure coordinates and boosted to full speed. An incoming barrage of laser fire impacted the aft portion of the destroyer. Emergency alarms sounded as the plasma tore though deck after deck, melting the Titanium-A armor like it was ice cream.

"Report!" Nathanial shouted.

"Sir, decks 4 through 18 breached, sections 5, 9 and 12 are venting atmosphere. Safeties are not responding!"

"Compensate for the venting," Hawkins ordered, noticing the stars tilted slightly as the _Artemis_ listed to port compliments of the escaping atmosphere. AI controlled maneuvering thrusters corrected the imbalance.

"Course correction complete," the digital voice responded.

"Thank you, Dietz," Hawkins gave, his eyes focused on an invisible point in space where they were going to make the jump. "Status on enemy incoming."

"Enemy is fifty thousand kilometers away and closing at thirty-five hundred kilometers per second."

"Deploy all Shiva nukes and drop two HAVOK mines," the admiral ordered.

Though the Archer pods and machine turrets had been melted away prior to their Slipspace jump, the nuclear missile launchers on the _Artemis_ were contained deeper within the ship, set on extenders that could be slipped out through heavily armored launch doors.

"Sir," weapons called back over the intercom. "Shiva nuke's launch doors are melted shut."

Another decompressing blast shook the ship. "Status," Hawkins barked.

"That was the doors of launch bay seven opening," Dietz informed. "Interior cameras show two squadrons of Longsword fighters are disengaging from the ship. Note that launch bay seven will remain decompressed until the airlock doors are repaired."

The two squadrons had used their 110mm cannons to blow a hole in the airlock gate large enough for them to slip out.

"Sorry for not clearing this with you," a transmission crackled, "but we didn't have the time to discuss this as a committee."

"Commander Watts, what are you doing?" Hawkins demanded, recognizing the voice of his close friend instantly.

"Taking our nukes out for a little ride, Admiral," was his casual response. "Don't wait up for us though, if you know what I mean."

The bridge crew could see as two dozen Longswords cut through space towards the massive bulk of the Covenant flagship. Point defense lasers erupted from the large cruiser, spitting laser fire that instantly reduced five of the Longswords to balls of incandescent flames. It didn't appear that the ships that had been hit had been carrying nukes. They were just diversions for the larger surprise. Hawkins quickly realized that the larger surprises were simple diversions for the _Artemis_.

The unknown-class Covenant ship had refrained from launching fighters of its own, under the correct assumption that normally equipped Longswords would not be able to penetrate its defenses – a mistake they would pay for dearly.

The cloaked ship from the Office of Naval Intelligence unveiled its position as a small hole in Slipspace opened, the activated Shaw-Fujikawa translight generators disengaging the cloaking device and propelling the small craft from the system. They weren't planning to stay around for the fireworks and neither was Hawkins. At the range the Covenant ship was currently at, the nukes would undoubtedly destroy them too.

"Are all decks sealed for Slipspace?" he asked systems.

"Yes, sir," the systems lieutenant answered, not wanting to know how many men and women had just been trapped in sections leaking air per his handwork locking down the remaining breaches.

"Good, engage Translight generators and…" A huge explosion rocked the ship from stern to bow. "Status report!" Hawkins howled.

"The engines!" engineering called. "We've taken a direct hit! Propulsion systems failing. Shit, the reactor core is leaking too!"

"Is the Translight drive still functional?" Nathanial demanded.

"It is, sir!"

"Then engage, damnit!" Space exploded into flurry of light. Luckily, the _Artemis_ didn't.


	12. Chapter 12 First Losses

Jason could feel something warm trickle down his face. Cracking open an eye, a blurry puddle of red liquid could be seen gathering on the inside curve of his visor. It hadn't congealed yet so he couldn't have been out for too long. A series of disconcerting cracks sounded as Jason slowly lifted his head from the control panel and straightened up in the co-pilot's seat. Stars spiraled dizzily outside the spinning ship.

"Control panel, now," a female voice demanded, floating through the air.

Jason's head felt like a plasma cutter was searing through his skull. There was a red haze to his vision and a high pitch ringing carved into his right ear. At the moment, movement was not an option. Just craning his neck to the side was enough to send spasms of pain through his body.

A bulky armored figure strode through the cockpit and addressed the computer, extracting a small data chip from its helmet and plugging it into the universal data input. The voice now was speaking through the ship's inboard speakers.

"Firing maneuvering thrusters."

_It was the AI construct,_ Jason finally realized.

"The computer core needs to be rebooted before we can get any systems initialized."

_Shit, the EMP must have managed to fry something_.

Lights flickered in the cockpit then cut out completely, plunging Jason's world into darkness. Tristina, the AI, had maneuvered the ship out of its uncontrolled spiral and straightened out its flight path. Still moving at a considerable speed, the _Disparage_ was now flying _backwards_ through space, reoriented so the front viewport was facing the massive storm of destroyed Covenant ships. Hopefully if anything managed to exit the debris field it would be in worse condition than the _Disparage_.

"Tara, what's our status?" Jason found himself saying, choking over the words as a sharp pulsing pain in his chest seemed to recede and then sharpen. It took the captain a moment to realize that the pain was keeping time with his breathing. Looking down at the metal control board in front of him, he could see a slight impression on its normally crisp angular face. Looking down further, he noticed that the LBAC polymer encrusting the chest plate armor had been cracked. Gently feeling around, Jason searched for broken ribs and found none. He would likely have a huge bruise on his chest in the shape of his specially modified armor. Hopefully the plasma dissipating shell hadn't been damaged.

"Status," Jason called out again. Boots clanking down the grating to the cockpit caused Jason to quickly turn, eager to see who else had managed to survive the ordeal. Marcus came tumbling in from the Pen followed by Rachel and Joshua.

"Shit, Captain," were the first words out of Joshua's mouth. Marcus and Rachel came to his aid, gently removing his helmet. A white cloth was quickly pressed to his head, the coagulant coated medpad adhering to his cut and slowing the flow of blood.

Another curse was cast into the cockpit from Joshua's lips. "She's not breathing!"

Disregarding his own wellbeing for the moment, Jason got to his feet as quickly as he could, but a bout of lightheadedness almost sent him back into the co-pilot's seat. His vision seemed to clear after a moment though the sharp plasma cutter feeling in his head remained.

Joshua had already unstrapped Tara from her flight chair and laid her down on the floor of the very cramped cockpit. Her helmet and armor were stripped but there were no exterior signs of blood loss. Whatever it was, it had to be internal.

Rachel had moved over to Berry's station and had managed to revive him from his shell shocked state. Jason braced himself against the flight consol.

"Get Cord the hell up here," he managed to cough.

Joshua looked over to his CO and regretfully stated that the team medic wouldn't be coming.

The feeling of blood on his hands had become second nature to the battle-hardened medic. He could wade through a trench of flowing red gore to enact field surgery on the worst of wounds, explosions and gunfire all around. However, when the blood on his hands happened to be his own, there was little he could do about it. His medkit lay open next to his body, bandages, stim packs, biofoam canisters, pain killers and other paraphernalia strewn about on the now settled Pen floor.

Samantha and Marlin were going through the supplies like two green recruits out of medic school. Neither had any serious medical training on top of the basic first aid that the Special Forces boot camp required them to learn. Adequate for bandaging wounds, setting bones and treating a catalogue of other light injuries, major surgery was not covered in the course – and that was exactly what Cord required.

The ammunition locker had snapped through its restraints, flew across the Pen and smashed into Cord's chest. Severe laceration across the ventral midline was compounded with a series of broken ribs, punctured lungs and other lesser injuries including a fractured shoulder, broken wrist and mild concussion. Cord knew that it was more than anybody on board would be able to successfully treat but that didn't stop them from trying.

Though Cord's sharp mind still managed to run clear, for the moment, he had no way of even communicating what actions should be taken. Concentrating on breathing was about all he could do. Had another member of the team been in his place, he would have given them a 50 chance of survival, that or maybe less. The hulking locker weighed enough that if it had merely tipped over on someone, it would have probably broken a few bones. Being sent across the Pen at a crazy spin-induced speed was something else entirely. Blood gathered around his body on the Pen's hard metal plate floor.

Samantha and Marlin worked desperately to help him and stop the bleeding. Cord could only lay motionless on the deck, gasping for air with blood sputtering out his mouth. The last time he had felt so completely helpless had been on Canastas. All of a sudden, the memories flooded in from some dark recess of his mind, pulling him from the pain he felt lying on the cold floor of the _Disparage_ to a world of different anguish.

It was dark. It was wet. It was a battlefield.

Corporal Dan Watkins lay in front of him, multiple plasma burns decorating the entire left side of his body. The spitfire from the enemy guns had completely cut down Lieutenant Robertson, carrying enough residual energy to splash onto Watkins, chewing through his armor and charring his flesh. Cord had immediately fallen to the ground and dropped his assault rifle in favor of his medical kit.

The wounds were deep and dangerously close to the corporal's vital organs. It was clear that he was going to lose his left arm, well, what was _left_ of his arm. Had it not been in the way to intercept the incoming residue plasma, Cord would have already left the man's dead body. Carefully, the medic removed Dan's armor, burning his hand through the glove when he touched the still hot edges where the plasma had penetrated.

The wound burrowed through muscle and bone and danced dangerously with the vitals that were enclosed by the tough Special Forces soldier's ribcage. His breathing was raspy but audible though the man had gone into shock instantly.

Incoming plasma fire turned the soft jungle ground into glass around him.

"Covering fire, damnit!" Cord shouted over his com. He received no verbal response but the sounds of automatic fire still thundered throughout the dark jungle. Cries could be heard too, both human and alien, between the bursts of fire blanketing the humid landscape.

Cord knew he had to work quickly or the man would fade away. Reaching toward his medic bag, he heard a light _plump_ as something landed beside him. A Covenant plasma grenade burned angry in the dark, sending blue light to form skipping shadows across the backdrop of foliage. Jumping to his feet and rolling over the crest of a small nearby hill, Cord just managed to avoid the explosion that turned the ground into molten glass short seconds later.

Cord said a short prayer for both Corporal Watkins and Lieutenant Robertson. Though his gun had been melted into slag in the blast, Cord had managed to secure a grip on his med satchel. Unfortunately, the contents had been spilled during his hasty retreat. Frantically searching the hill in the low light, he could only find a pair of medistrips, a biofoam injector and a case of painkillers. The rest of his supplies had been melted by the plasma grenade or lost on the dark jungle ground.

The plasma grenade blast had also fried his communications gear. Bursts of static interrupted all the frantic transmissions that were flooding the coms channels. From somewhere in front of him, Cord heard the anguished cries of his fellow squad mates. Drawing his M6D pistol from his side and the handful of surviving supplies, Cord dashed into the fire zone, determined to save every soldier that he could.

It didn't take him long to come across another squad mate, Corporal David Bemenderfer. Large and powerful, the corporal was leaned back on the trunk of a gigantic tree in a small circle shaped clearing, the assault rifle in his hand leveled at the line of bushes to the north. The bodies of grunts and jackals were piled up on the vegetation's edge. At least one elite was downed as well, shards of shrapnel invading its armor at uncomfortable angles. _Bemenderfer had always been an expert with grenades_. The elite was still breathing in painful gasps but was of no threat to the two humans.

"Good to see you, doc," Bemenderfer spouted, lowering his rifle a hair. Immediately, Cord could see what had downed the giant man. His right leg had been burned off just above the knee. Jumping to his fallen friend's side, Cord emptied a shock of painkillers into the fallen man's neck.

"Feels better all ready, doc," the burly man's voice rumbled in its deep bass. Even though the wound had been burned through the flesh and bone, it was still bleeding at a rate that made Cord nervous. Fashioning a tourniquet from a strip of cloth torn from his army fatigues and a nearby stick, the bleeding slowed but didn't stop.

"Cover me," Cord ordered the corporal. Running up to the tree line, Cord stretched out a hand to grab a plasma pistol from the grip of a jackal that had been peppered with 7.62mm rounds. Just as he reached the edge of the clearing, an ugly face popped up in front of his. A meter tall grunt in red armor peeked out from the cover of the tropical plants.

Shifting his weight, Cord planted a standard issue army boot in the alien's face, smashing into the breathing apparatus and crushing it into the grunt's mouth. Choking and gurgling sounds could be heard as Cord unloaded a series of rounds from his pistol. Automatic fire from David's MA2B joined his own as he snatched up the plasma pistol and fell back to his comrade's position.

More grunts erupted from the plants but were killed or forced back by the spitting lead. Brass from David's gun landed in piles around his body, each controlled burst sending another alien wretch to its grave.

Cord had managed to send down four grunts in seven shots when his pistol clicked empty. Switching over to the plasma gun he had retrieved, he unloaded a hot green ball of energy into the face of an oncoming jackal that had been busy hiding behind its shield in the wake of David's suppression fire. After a few more seconds, David's rifle fell silent as the threat was neutralized, for the moment.

Cord reloaded his M6D and knelt at his friend's side. "This is probably going to hurt," he began, holding down the plasma pistol's firing mechanism.

A green light began to grow out of the muzzle of the gun as it charged up to a critical level. David grunted that he was ready and bit down hard on the collar of his armor. His eyes fluttered in pain as Cord used the searing hot plasma to cauterize his wound.

"Done," the medic called, discharging the plasma blast, throwing down the Covenant weapon and donning his M6D. "Here, you might need these," he said, stripping the last of his rifle ammo from his waist and tossing them to David who had just spent the last of his own rounds. The Corporal managed a smile and coughed out a thank you. Cord managed a weak smile back, admiring the tough son-of-a-bitch who sat in front of him.

"The rest of the squad moved on to Omega," the larger man instructed, pointing to the north. Cord stood and nodded.

"We'll be back for you," he said, his words not fooling anybody. In his eyes, it didn't seem like anybody was going to make it off the alien planet alive at the rate things were going. David nodded back and returned the salute Cord offered.

"Give 'em hell, soldier," the ranking officer ordered.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Cord barked, no longer worrying about attracting anymore unwanted attention. As he turned and continued on through the wet dripping jungle, he saw his friend for the very last time.

The mission had failed miserably. Cord had managed to locate three more in his team, all badly wounded, on the way to Omega point. He was not equipped to help any of them, only able to offer a few shots of painkillers and reassuring lies that he would return to get them to extraction after the mission was over. They knew their fate but thanked the trusty medic none the less.

Cord had never before felt so powerless. His teammates were falling left and right and there was nothing he could do to help them with his medical supplies destroyed. Watching them slowly die before his eyes and able to do nothing about it was worse than if he had found them already dead. Cord muttered a dictionary of curse words under his breath as he continued on towards Omega.

The sounds in the jungle had reduced to that of Cord's heavy footsteps. No more gunfire could be heard over the crunching leaves and dripping water. It was too quiet.

Cord was down to one and a half clips for his pistol. He had picked up a Covenant plasma rifle on the way but preferred the feeling of human weaponry in his hands. A small patrol of Grunts led by a Jackal had been the only hostiles he had met up with after leaving the deathbed of Sylvia over a half hour ago. The tech specialist had been downed by a stray needler charge, tiny fragments of pink shrapnel littering her stomach and intestines. The internal bleeding caused by the explosion was beyond repair but the tough as nails marine transfer had still managed to give his hand a strong squeeze until the slight smile on her face disappeared, following her into a sleep that Cord could not wake her from.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cord sensed movement. Ducking to the ground and readying his M6D, the doctor scanned the bushes in the immediate area. A stick cracked to his right and he turned just in time to see an MA2B shoved in his face.

"He's a friendly," Berry Connors said, waving a handful of other humans out from their hiding places. A strong hand helped Cord to his feet.

Cord's eyes fluttered wildly. "Is that you, David?" he mumbled, pain exploding in his chest.

"He's not going to make it, Captain," Samantha said.

Dark figures stood up outside Cord's vision. Cold deck plates could once again be felt under his back. He heard his CO swear and could see Jason's eyes looking down at him. Everything began to fade from his vision, darkening inward from the edges.

More mumbled speech could be heard but it seemed to become lost in Cord's mind as his body began to shut down. A figure walked up next to Samantha and Jason, a being that seemed to be glowing with a light so brilliant, Cord had to squint. The figure extended a hand downward and Cord managed to throw his hand into the other's grasp. The pain in his body seemed to disappear as he was hoisted to his feet.

"It's good to see you, doc," David Bemenderfer's loud voice boomed. Cord's vision cleared and he could see his friend from long ago with new eyes. White light began to eat away everything around him, the interior of the _Disparage_ disappearing as if someone was painting over it with a spray brush.

"We've been waiting for you," another voice said in a tone that was not exactly happy or sad, but one that warmed Cord's body with strength and light. Sylvia stood off to the side, her arms crossed and her long flowing black hair framing a smile that made tears form in Cord's eyes. The rest of his old team stood all around him wearing grins on their faces, faces that Cord had last seen skewed with pain and anguish.

"Come on," Sylvia said, waving Cord forward. "We have something we want to show you." One by one, the other eleven members of _Interlochen Squad _turned and walked into a glaring wall of white. Cord hesitated once, and then followed his friends into the light.


	13. Chapter 13 Momentary Safety

"Could they be tracking us?" Hawkins questioned Dietz, the ship's AI.

"There is a 94 chance that the Covenant cruiser is currently in Slipspace pursuit," the hologram responded.

The admiral managed to stifle a curse under his breath. "Status report," he finally called out to the bridge crew.

"Main engines are off line."

"Exterior sensors and long range communications are inoperable."

"Weapon emplacements have all been damaged beyond repair."

"Decks 4 through 18 breached and sections 5, 9 and 12 are all completely decompressed."

"The reactor core leak has been patched," a hopeful voice offered amidst the downpour of negative responses.

The admiral remained silent for a moment, probably longer than he should have if he didn't want to make the bridge crew any more nervous than they already were.

"Give me an inventory of our offensive capabilities," he gave though he already had a good idea about where they stood.

"We have a half squadron of Longswords along with twenty Pelican dropships. Two HAVOK nuclear mines and a cargo hold of Archer missiles."

"How soon can we get the engines back online?" Nathanial asked.

Navigation looked at the Admiral with a fearful look. "Sir, when I said that the engines were offline, I meant to say that they're _gone_."

Plasma torpedoes had torn right through the engine cores, melting the high tech coolant systems and igniters into unrecognizable cinders. With no way to maneuver in-system, speed up, or even slow down, the Admiral's options were rapidly diminishing. They were drifting, though at a very high speed, through Slipspace.

Long range communications were gone, and their current Slipspace maneuver would be their last once they exited at the coordinates offered by the Office of Naval Intelligence ship. Their only hope would be that a rescue team would be dispatched to their location.

"Can anything be repaired?" the Admiral asked, hoping for a speck of good news that could incite the worried officers into activity that would get their minds off of what awaited them when they exited slip stream space. "If anyone has any suggestions, please speak freely."

"Long range communications might be able to be established if we amplify the…" the coms tech started.

"Do it," Hawkins ordered, not caring about any technospeak the lieutenant was about to unleash. "What else?"

"Explosive decompression may be used for slight maneuvers," Dietz offered. "However, the calculations for doing so suggest unpredictable results at best."

"Noted," the admiral nodded.

After that, suggestions and ideas began flowing in from all over the command deck. Rigging up solar sails, back feeding the engine conduits to provide burst firing propulsion, attaching tow lines to the Pelicans and the prow of the _Artemis_. Weapons wise, it was suggested that marines in self-contained suits with Jackhammer launchers could fend off Covenant fighters. Back-up Archer missile pods could be flashwelded on the exterior of the ship and operated by marines as well. One of the pilots even got a laugh from the rest of the crew when she floated the idea of rigging C-12 explosives with mess hall silverware to provide shrapnel filled explosions should Elites attempt a spacewalk with jet packs.

_Good,_ Hawkins thought to himself. As long as the men were busy brainstorming all their possible options, they wouldn't be able to worry what would happen when the Slipspace counter dropped to zero, an even that was less than four hours away.

The red emergency lighting flicked off and the regular illumination provided by the overheads snapped on. Tristina must have been able to reboot the computer systems core. Now in the startling white light, Cord could be seen clearly, his eyes closed tight and what looked like a faint smile resting on his lips. Jason cursed at the ammunition locker that sat at the back of the craft. It had been moved by a combined effort between Jacobs, Joshua and Sam.

Jason had been the one to secure the locker. He must have missed a safety catch or something when he had been exchanging fire with Simmons earlier in the launch bay. Under his breath, the Captain silently cursed at himself.

"Captain, you need to see this," Berry's voice called gently from the cockpit area.

Still dizzy from his close encounter with the Flightcom Mark II pilot control board, Jason let his hands guide his body to the cockpit. Marcus, Berry, and Simmons were plastered to the front viewport. A small Covenant corvette was limping out of the debris field, its engines glowing a soft blue as it maneuvered the skeletons of its brother ships. The newfound lighting onboard died again as Tristina cut power to all unnecessary systems.

"How the hell…" Marcus whispered, his hands still resting on his personal data pad he had plugged into the ship's computer network, watching as Tristina methodically tested and repaired connections in the system faster than he would ever be able to do.

It was most likely shielded between the two destroyers," Berry suggested, an assumption that was probably correct.

"What do we do then?" Marcus asked. Samantha and Jacobs moved into the cockpit, making the small space feel even more claustrophobic.

"She's stabilized, but I don't think there's much we can do for her," Sam said referring to Tara who had been moved to the living quarters on a stretcher.

"We wait and don't draw attention to ourselves," Simmons answered Marcus. Jason looked over at the Commander but the glance was not noticed. Outranked by the HC officer, Jason held his tongue. He would have ordered the same thing, but, at least on his ship, he was more accustomed to giving orders than taking them.

Seven people watched intently as the Covenant craft cleared the rest of the field. Energy scoring wrapped around the purple shell like a black glove. Passive sensors flickered on as Tristina brought the ship up to green status while leaving all non necessary systems powered down incase the Covenant craft somehow managed to do a scan of its own.

Jason looked down at the status display. Though Tristina had been able to repair all of the computer systems that had sustained damage during the nuclear explosion and resulting EMP, there was a short list of damage the _Disparage _had incurred that the construct could not fix. Energy readings were fluctuating chaotically in the portside engine. Though their sensor package was still functioning at 80, long range communications had taken a hit, naturally. Something large and fast moving had probably sped out of the explosion and snapped off the com transceiver.

One of the Archer missile pods had been damaged as well. Jason cut the controls to it and engaged the safeties. It would not be good to have one of the high yield missiles explode in the barrel of the launcher that was out of alignment. Most of the other damage was merely cosmetic or unknown to the systems computer.

As the Covenant corvette moved further from the debris field, the _Disparage _crew got a closer look. The corvette's exterior guns had been destroyed – it looked like the hull had been almost completely stripped away by the blast. It was unfortunate that Covenant crafts' bridges were located in the protected center of their ships. If it had been any human cruiser, the command deck and everybody on it would have been annihilated instantly.

"I don't think they're going to be that much of a threat," Jason started to say. Just as the words exited his mouth, two more Covenant corvettes slipped out of the floating cloud of junk. These seemed to be in much better shape than the first, their hulls only slightly scarred by the nuclear holocaust.

"Impossible," Simmons gasped, his jaw hanging slightly open. Almost immediately after leaving the debris field, the two cruisers made a bee line toward the _Disparage_.

"Powering up," Tristina announced, bringing all systems back online. Jason jumped into the pilot's seat.

"Berry, take co-pilot," he ordered, flipping switches and dials. "Shit, Tara," he muttered under his breath, "we need you here."

"The loss of your pilot is inconsequential," Tristina chattered over the com, "I will assume control of the _Disparage_." Thrusters flared and sent the Sarias-class shuttle into motion, throwing Simmons, Jacobs and Sam to the controls at the back of the cockpit.

"Evasive maneuvers," the Artificial Intelligence program announced. Laser fire decorated space, engaging the _Disparage_ in a deadly tango of movement. One wrong move and the _Disparage_ was likely to get squashed. The _Disparage_ was only capable of the equivalent of stepping on the other dancer's foot. Judging from the course that the AI had plotted, it was planning on doing just that.

Jason was fuming and he was sure the other _Fireflys_ were as well. _The loss of your pilot is inconsequential._ Jason was ready to blast the AI into a hundred thousand pieces for the comment.

With its enhanced engines and increased maneuverability, the _Disparage_ shot by the corvettes at close range, faster than their guns could easily track. Though she seemed to lack any social etiquette protocol programming, Tristina was an ace pilot.

Gauss cannons spat their payloads of armor piercing ferromagnetic rounds, splashing off the nearest corvette's shields. Lasers fired back, in precise increments of time after their recharge cycles completed. Three laser turrets exploded as Tristina sent the high velocity shells in right as the corvette's shields lowered to let its own guns fire outward.

The _ca-chunk_ of 110mm cannons could be heard though no one was manning any of the turret control stations. It took Jason a moment to realize that the powerful rounds were being wasted into the depths of space, not even coming close to the enemy ships. _She's using them to increase our maneuverability_ he finally realized. In combination with the emergency thrusters, the AI had disabled the recoil compensators on the 110's and was using the them to steer the ship, a feat that would have been nearly impossible with a human pilot and four gunners. The precise calculations required for the angles and timing for each discharge to be perfect boggled Jason's mind. Tristina took the _Disparage_ through flips, turns, spirals, jukes and banks that no other pilot had ever performed, all the while using the recoilless gauss cannons to destroy the corvettes' offensive weaponry.

Jason would have cheered at the sight of one of the corvette's shields completely collapse as a high speed projectile inflicted damage on its bank of shield generators. However, he was starting to feel sick from all the fancy flying.

"This is going to get bumpy," the AI's voice called out over the speakers.

As the _Disparage _continued to flip about, a huge ship flashed across the main viewport. A Covenant destroyer.

"What the hell is going on here?" Simmons cried out in disbelief.

"New contacts have entered the system," Tristina announced, confirming that the ship was not one that had survived the nuclear trap from earlier.

From all the fancy flying Jason had witnessed Tristina accomplish, he knew that they could have probably managed to disable the trio of already damaged corvettes. However, there was nothing on ship that would be able to match a destroyer. Just as he had that thought, there was a sudden violent lurch. The portside engine had more or less exploded, leaving a streak of fiery yellow trailing the _Disparage_.

"We're hit!" Jacobs yelled.

"Get us out of here," Jason ordered the AI pilot, not even sure if it was programmed to accept his command.

"Jumping," the AI stated as green tendrils of light exploded out of blackness and engulfed the _Disparage_ in an embrace of momentary safety.


	14. Chapter 14 Rings of Gold

Once the ship dropped out of Slipspace, a horde of marines and engineers were going to rush to the outer hull and attach Archer missile pods to the ship's aft quarters as Pelicans and Longswords pulled the guns into place. The Pelicans had been filled to the brim with the excess Archer missiles, which, when remotely piloted, could provide an explosive surprise of self guided missiles. Marines with jet packs were going to manually set and remote detonate the two remaining HAVOK nuclear mines. The coms chief would try to beam a signal out to the nearest UNSC satellite and hope the fleet would be able to ping them back to their location. The deck crew was busy lining the outer passages with C-12 explosives should a boarding take place. All the while, engineers would be working to get the main reactor repaired and able to sustain a critical mass build up in case they had to use it to self-destruct.

Hawkins could only stand and watch. The orders had been given, actions set into motion and there was nothing more he could do but wait.

"Three minutes, plus or minus one minute before re-entry into normal space," Dietz called over the all-broadcast intercom.

"Let's see where those Navy Intelligence bastards send us now," Hawkins muttered under his breath. The brilliant colors of Slipspace exploded into an ocean of black. Immediately, video feeds from almost 360 degrees around the ship flashed onto the bridge main view monitors. Almost every internal camera had been stripped and mounted facing outward through viewports, allowing the once blind ship new vision.

With an audible gasp and a slight step backward, Nathanial's eyes grew wide at the sight that met him, hovering off the starboard bow. A superdestroyer hung in space not fifteen thousand klicks out. The human made marvel was the last thing that Nathanial thought he'd ever see and welcomed the sight of it whole heartedly. Off to the portside, a huge planet hung nearby, the clouds in its high atmosphere indicating a massive storm.

"_Artemis_, please confirm if any hostiles are currently in pursuit," a voice crackled over the short range coms.

_Terry_. Taking a closer look, Nathanial could see the bright yellow emblazoned sun etched onto the side of the superdestroyer. Though he had never seen it in person, the ship was undoubtedly the _Nylund_, the flagship of Admiral Terry Hawkins' fleet, _Taskforce Salvation_.

"There is an almost certain chance that Covenant ships are in pursuit," Coms officer Jerry Gass responded just as a Slipspace rift opened up only light seconds behind the _Artemis_.

In an instant, Dietz took control of the helm, blowing the airlocks on every starboard deck that had been cleared of crew. The decompression caused the giant destroyer to barrel roll to port, opening a wider path down which _Nylund_ could fire.

The _Nylund_, one of a scarce handful of super-class destroyers, was the pride of the human armada, the pinnacle of human engineering prowess. Three enhanced MAC cannons were mounted on its forward exterior, two running below the ship's midline and one along the top. More over, a fourth MAC emplacement ran across the portside flank, positioned to fire _backwards_ at any possible pursuers should they manage to give the superdestroyer a reason to run.

Each of the cannons were capable of firing _two_ consecutive volleys of ferric tungsten shells before having to be recharged. Each cannon had a miniature reactor dedicated to their operation which lowered firing times to almost one full discharge per minute. Though the reactors were directly linked to the MAC guns, power could be drawn from them and rerouted to the engines. A modified coolant recharge system had been installed that allowed the engines to run up to 250 efficient for short periods of time.

Archer missile pods and 110mm cannons were placed to share overlapping fields of fire. Any Covenant fighters or boarding craft that were intelligent enough to move closer than one hundred kilometers to the _Nylund _didn't stand a chance. Facing off directly against the Covenant flagship one on one, the _Nylund_ probably had a slight advantage over its alien brother.

Under normal conditions, however, it would never have been a lone Covenant flagship going up against the human superdestroyer. Also, huge holes were visible in the purple craft's superstructure, obvious damage from high yield nuclear charges. Commander Watts had apparently partially succeeded in his goal.

The objective of that goal was about to be fulfilled as the _Nylund_ barreled down on the damaged Covenant destroyer. Ferric tungsten shells shattered its remaining shield capabilities and ripped huge gaping holes through every deck. Reactors went critical and turned the gigantic three kilometer ship into a brilliant sun. Huge purple hull plates flew outward in all directions. Nathanial winced as he watched a spacewalking marine get pulverized by the oversized shrapnel on one of the tele-monitors.

"Is that all you brought for us, Admiral?" Terry's voice boomed over the interior speakers of the _Artemis_ on short wave communications channels.

"Unless the Covenant sent a locator transmission upon exiting Slipspace, I believe that is the last we will see of them for the time being," Dietz informed. Nathanial relayed the AI's message back to the _Nylund_.

"Good to hear," Terry responded, not waiting for Nathanial to complete his sentence. "Crews are being sent over now. I cordially invite you and all of your crew onto the _Nylund_ until repairs have been enacted on the _Artemis_. A flurry of transport and maintenance shuttles could be seen traversing the space between the two UNSC destroyers.

Nathanial, his pulse finally beginning to settle back down, let out a giant sigh of relief, a sentiment that was shared by the rest of the command crew. By his count, their little trap had destroyed at least fifteen Covenant capitol ships including the gigantic Covenant flagship. Trading one UNSC destroyer for fifteen Covenant craft was something well worth the effort in his eyes. And to top it all off, they had survived.

Proximity warnings sounded just as Nathanial had begun to sit down in his command chair. Appearing before his eyes, another Covenant taskforce materialized before the _Artemis_. The envoy of engineers and supplies was flash vaporized in the brief onslaught that ensued. A single destroyer flanked by a quartet of frigates turned their sights onto the UNSC _Nylund_.

"All hands to battle stations!" Nathanial ordered. Marines and flight crew who had just seconds before begun to relax jumped back into action, flashwelding the Archer missile pods and setting C-12 charges. They weren't finished yet.

"Holy hell," Berry muttered, his mouth agape. "What in heaven's name…"

A silent cockpit was all that answered Berry's stunted statement. Stretching far beyond the viewport of the _Disparage_ was a massive but gentle curve of metal and land. Mountains, ravines, green rolling hills, frigid frozen tundra, grassy planes and huge stretches of glistening water could be seen on the self-contained circular atrium. Clouds lazily hung over the ring's surface, angry thunderheads pouring rain down on portions of the gigantic surface.

Gold light surrounded space all around them. Brilliant stars and explosive gas lit up space brighter than day. Radiant glittering specks of energy stretched out over space that would usually be consumed by star fields, golden glowing tendrils of motion and light dazzling the eye. The biggest question on everybody's mind was where in blazes they had jumped to.

The hiss of the hydraulic cockpit door signaled Rachel's entrance. "What's the hold up, oh my God, what the hell…"

"It's Halo. Or, more specifically, _a_ Halo," Simmons spoke from the co-pilot seat. His voice made it seem that he was not surprised in the least to stumble across the gigantic ring but his wide studying eyes assured Jason that he was caught off guard just as the rest of them were.

"What are your orders, Captain?" Berry questioned, snapping from his daze and looking back to the command station.

"Hold here and perform a full spectrum scan of that ring," Jason answered.

"We land immediately," Simmons ordered. Jason shot a look over to the commander.

"With all due respect, _sir_, we have no idea what might be down there," Jason said, his wits slowly recovering from the shock of everything his eyes were skipping across.

"For all we know, this crate could fall apart or explode at any moment," the commander countered. "We need to land immediately and get communications back on-line. This find _must_ be reported to HC." Jason disagreed, knowing that repairs could be performed in zero-gee but the Commander seemed dead set on putting down on the fifteen thousand kilometer wide ring.

"Sir, I am detecting a faint radio signal," Marcus interrupted. "I can't get a fix on where it is coming from, but it is very close. It seems like it could be originating from…" Marcus' fingers nimbly navigated the communications board, trying to do anything that would potentially boost their sensors. "…fifty degrees starboard." Jason used the maneuvering thrusters to gently tip the ship to the right. A small planet was hovering off in the distance, the golden light from the space around it illuminating the surface from every angle – that is, lighting the surface that was not covered by dark orange, sinister looking clouds that hovered over at least half the planet's visible face.

"What is that?" Simmons asked, pointing toward the ring. A cloud of smoke seemed to be moving through space straight toward them. Everyone leaned forward, squinting through the blackness at the strange moving cloud.

"Space debris?" Rachel suggested.

"No," Carver said. "Those are sentinels." Jason whipped about. It was the first time he had heard the Spartan say anything. The voice was highly digitized and lacked any feeling, further solidifying in Jason's mind that the Spartans were just machines, not humans.

"What? How can you tell?" he demanded.

The Spartan tapped the MJOLNIR vision enhancing visor with an armored finger.

"Well judging from their formation and velocity, I don't think they are a welcoming party," Jacobs commented. He moved forward to the controls to try and bring the ship about himself.

"No," Simmons ordered. "Try and establish contact." Berry hesitated for a moment, casting a glance at Jason.

"That's a direct order, solider," Simmons reaffirmed.

Rachel, whose eyes had not left the approaching storm of metal, started backing up out of the cockpit. "Guys, something tells me we may need to get to the gunners turrets right about now…" Not waiting for a command, she turned and exited the cockpit.

"Nonsense!" Simmons exclaimed. "There is nothing to suggest that the ring facility overseers would have any reason to be hostile to _us_."

"How do you know that?" Jason asked, taken aback by Simmons' apparent knowledge about the ring.

"Uh, guys?" Berry said, not allowing Simmons to answer. Yanking hard on the controls, the internal compensators revved up to full power as the _Disparage _danced around through a deadly field of burning energy beams. A lurching shudder originated from somewhere in the rear of the tumbling craft causing free hands to become latched onto anything that could provide an anchor. Berry was a competent pilot but he was an engineer first and nowhere near as good as Tara.

"Does that answer your question?" Berry shouted.

"Shutting down the portside engine," Jason announced no one in particular. The damaged hardware had managed to get them through Slipspace but would not be able to handle the stress of the maneuvers Berry was pulling. "Get us out of those things' range, now!"

"That's going to be hard with only one engine," Berry returned.

"Well keep that engine opposite to incoming fire. Those beams don't look like they're too much for our armor, but if they manage to hit the heat sinks, we could be in for some serious trouble. And why are we not returning fire?" Jason's answer came in the form of the loud _ca-chunking_ of the 110mm cannons. Miniature explosions bloomed into short-lived brilliance as the high explosive rounds shredded the oncoming waves of silver machines.

"Tristina, what in blazes are you doing?" Simmons shouted, reminding Jason that the powerful AI would probably be more efficient piloting and shooting than his men. There was no audible answer from the AI.

Off further in the distance, a contingency of much larger, much more dangerous looking sentinels could be seen moving toward them with giant circular shields raised and ready to deflect any incoming assault. Had Jason known to ask Simmons or Claver, he would have learned the name of them – Enforcers. The 110mm cannons were enough to easily tear up the smaller drones. Lucky hits could even inflict serious damage upon smaller Covenant corvettes and frigates. However, Jason didn't want to test them against the heavily armed and heavily armored newcomers. The large drones seemed to be up to the challenge even in lieu of the Class-A gauss cannons and missile pods.

"Get us out of here now," Jason said, his voice remaining level but shrieking with an urgency that caused Berry to tighten his grip on the flight controls.

"We seem to be losing power" Berry said back, fighting with the controls as their one good engine slowly dropped to 60 output. "We won't be able to out run them if this continues…" Nobody replied to Berry's musings knowing that if they stayed in the open space any longer they would be cut to shreds. Berry took the _Disparage_ into a steep descent toward the nearby planet.

Fire licked across the Titanium-A plates as atmospheric friction greeted the rapidly falling ship. Vibrations gripped the _Disparage_, determined to shake the craft apart before it could evade its pursuers. Thick orange clouds flashed by as Berry took the _Disparage_ closer to the planet's surface.

"By the composition and chemicals of these clouds…" Tristina the AI started to say, snapping out of whatever process that had kept it from resuming helm control, "I'd say that they…"

Sentinel laser beams crawled through the cloud's puffy face, igniting the highly explosive gases that they were composed of. Fire and light engulfed the fleeing _Disparage_, sending the recently reset green systems to a critically damaged red status. There was no question about it now – they were going down and going down hot.

"Shit, captain, more incoming fire!" Joshua shouted pointing out the port side view window. From the surface of the planet, an eruption of plasma began to melt the sky, enough to turn the _Disparage _into a nice molten ball of metal.

Berry began to attempt more evasive maneuvers but Jason grabbed the controls. "No." That kind of maneuvering would only succeed in ripping the _Disparage_ into pieces.

The salvos of plasma seared the sky, destroying wave after wave of sentinels that pursued the _Disparage_. "Whatever it is that's down there, it seems to be covering us," Jason observed the obvious. The friendly fire seemed to be coming from the base of a towering range of mountains to the west. Their altitude was under 5,000 meters and falling quicker than made Jason's stomach comfortable.

"Aim us over there if you can," Jason instructed, pointing to the origin of their saving grace.

"I'll do my best," Berry responded, gritting his teeth. His knuckles had turned ghost white from gripping the controls, fighting to keep the ship from edging to starboard over a giant lake of yellow water. A maneuvering flap was probably damaged or completely gone, one small thing in a lengthy list of malfunctions that were displayed the status screen in front of Jason.

"Ready for landing," Jason shouted over the intercom. "Seal your suits and engage your atmospheric filtering scrubbers. If we're going to land on a planet that has exploding clouds, I don't think there's going to be enough O2 to go around out there."

Suddenly realizing the very probable truth behind Jason's words, Simmons, in his dark gray HC uniform, tapped him on the shoulder, the first worried expression Jason had ever seen him display scrawled across his normally smug countenance. Jason hid a smile and motioned to the Pen with his thumb.

"Extra suits are in back." Simmons rushed to the rear, a large gust of turbulence causing the Commander to smack his head into the conductors relay control board as he exited the cockpit. Jason grinned. "Sam, find the Commander a suit. And make sure Tara is secured."

Jason turned and reverted his attention to outside the cockpit glass. The ground was coming up much, much quicker than he was comfortable. "What do you think?" he asked, looking over to Berry.

"Well, now that we lost our welcoming party, I think I can slow us down to a more manageable velocity." The altitude meter to Jason's right indicated they were a mere 500 meters above the strange yellow tree tops below. Though under normal circumstances, Jason would have preferred keeping a closer profile to the surface, the way the _Disparage_ was flying, it could have been a very dangerous prospect. Berry was doing his best to keep the slowly disintegrating craft on a level course.

"I think we can make it to those mountains but we're not really in any condition to make a landing." He glanced over his shoulder to look his captain in the eye. "If we could find a nice open field, I could try to powerslide in, but these trees run all the way up to the base of those mountains." An orange nav triangle was fixed on the spot where the plasma had originated only two kilometers off their bow. Jason had no intuitive insight that could solve their rapidly approaching problem. Either way, the loud scream of tearing metal and a giant lurch answered any and all tactical questions.

"What the hell was that?!" Jason shouted, almost taking another dive into the Flightcom control board as the _Disparage_ fell over 200 meters in a mere second. Berry's teeth were clenched so tight, the veins in his muscled neck were bulging out, his fists strangling the flight stick.

"Well, Captain," Berry shouted back over a new rattling noise that now engulfed the cockpit, "judging from the amount of drag I'm experiencing in the controls, I'd say we probably lost something that was damn important."

Jason tightened his crash straps on the co-pilot's chair and opened an intercom channel. "If you haven't yet guessed, we're in the process of crashing. Please make the appropriate preparations." The channel closed.

Berry nodded toward the front view screen. "I'm going to try and set us down in that bank of trees," he said, putting his full attention to keeping the craft from overshooting into the mountains. Jason looked out the cockpit glass, seeing nothing _but_ trees.

"Which trees?" he questioned back. A small smirk turned up the corner of Berry's lip.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he answered back with a nervous laugh.

_Har har_ Jason thought to himself, bringing up systems control on his main panel and routing all systems into one lockdown switch. Pressing the button would effectively shut down all hardware on the ship that could potentially explode, including flash freezing the fuel lines, killing reactor power and all other electrical systems measuring over 24,000 megawatts in output. Once the kill switch had been thrown, it would transform the _Disparage_ from a volatile metal wreck flying under 35 engine thrust to a mostly harmless metal wreck dropping out of the sky like an oversized rock.

"On your mark," Jason told Berry, his hand hovering over the controls.

"Surprise me, Captain," was the answer. A split second later, the _Disparage_ tumbled into the yellow forest.


	15. Chapter 15 Salvation and Damnation

The Covenant reactionary force had not expected a UNSC superdestroyer. If they had, there would have been more than a taskforce of a destroyer and a handful of frigates sitting off the _Artemis'_ bow.

Terry had made a mistake sending the repair crews over before confirming the Covenant had no more forces in pursuit. Though the transport shuttles posed the least threat of all to the small contingency of purple craft, unbeknownst to them, destroying them had probably been the most damaging move they could have made. The _Artemis_ was already shot to hell and the _Nylund_ would tear them apart before they could bat an eye.

Six ferric tungsten rounds lanced out from the _Nylund_ mere moments after the repair crew shuttles were vaporized. Miraculously, the four smaller frigates had sped forward, shielding the destroyer they were escorting with their own bulks. Two of the craft immediately exploded, their interception mission successfully completed. The other two were sent spinning off course, their shields shimmering fiercely as they took glancing blows. The destroyer also was hit along its starboard flank but barreled onward directly towards the _Artemis_.

"Incoming!" a voice called out. The Covenant destroyer swept dangerously close past the _Artemis_ as a handful of Archer missiles streaked through space from the flash welded turrets the marines had managed to secure on the outer hull. Small explosions peppered the destroyer's shields, simply gnats that weren't even worthy of the large craft's notice. It was a fact that none of the _Artemis'_ functioning armaments would be of any real use.

Six more heavy rounds shot through the remaining two frigates, their combined firepower almost equal to the output of an orbital MAC defense platform. The _Nylund_ maneuvered to gain a clear shot on the remaining destroyer but it had already slipped behind the _Artemis_ and was determined to use the UNSC cruiser as a shield. More archer missiles carved streaks through the dark space and this time, the destroyer decided to answer back, point defense lasers tracing the side of the _Artemis_ and vaporizing the turrets and the marines manning them.

"Sir, energy fluctuations detected!" a lieutenant reported to Nathanial. Video screens showed bright plasma energy forming off the Covenant destroyer's prow.

"Enemy ship preparing to fire!" The hot white plasma burned brighter and brighter, flaring up to a point that the video monitor showed only a blaring white screen.

"Negative," Dietz countered. "Typical energy discharge for capital ship plasma weaponry has been exceeded by over 200. The only explanation for this is that the Covenant ship intends…"

"She's going to self-destruct," Nathanial whispered under his breath just as Dietz finished the same sentence. Spinning about, Nathanial pointed to his coms chief. "Open a channel, tell Admiral Hawkins to take aim at point six six seven dash four oh nine. I want Sergeant Mitchell on the horn now!" Terry skimmed by the com station to systems. A lit diagram showed the complete schematics of the _Artemis_, large portions of it colored red while others were dark, indicating they were no longer holding atmosphere or were completely gone.

"Admiral," Sergeant Mitchell reported over his transceiver.

"On my mark, I need you to blow C12 charges on decks 12 through 19 and all the charges in sector 8. After that, blow everything you've got along our port side…that is, everything that she can take without falling apart."

"I copy, sir. Awaiting your command."

By this time, the coms chief had ported Admiral Terry Hawkins to the bridge speakers.

"That firing solution has you and your ship standing between us and our target," he calmly stated.

"Copy that, _Nylund_," Nathanial answered back. "Fire on my mark."

"Understood," the older brother coolly returned. "Just checking in before we turn your ship into Swiss cheese. Given this is your request, I will be leaving all the clean-up paperwork up to you."

"Right," Nathanial scoffed, knowing well the maelstrom of papers he would have to fill out for requesting a friendly to fire on him. Endangerment of crew, destruction of UNSC property, disregard of safety protocol, rules of engagement… "Prepare to fire."

"We've switched out to penetration rounds," the radio crackled. "Hopefully they'll peel right through you and into the Covie."

"Acknowledged…fire."

The three forward facing MAC cannons on the _Nylund_ began to glow, their capacitors seconds away from achieving discharge levels.

"Mitchell, now!" Nathanial ordered.

Anything that wasn't already bolted down was promptly lifted from its place and propelled across the bridge. Sparks and glass flew from monitors while secondary charges spun the _Artemis_ from its port side, simultaneously rotating the primary engine cores out of the _Nylund's_ line of fire and bringing the most heavily armored portion of the _Artemis'_ flank to bear against the Covenant destroyer.

Vice-Admiral Nathanial Hawkins had been through every training simulation and exercise on the UNSC Navy's books. Out of all of them, the one he had hated the most was the free-fall parachute entry course on Monroe 7. He had hated it then, and he hated it now. The deck beneath his momentarily weightless form disappeared and was replaced with the radar station as two of the high penetration MAC rounds pulverized the empty aft launch bay.

The single MAC round that the _Artemis_ had managed to roll away from slammed into the Covenant craft, flaring up its shields, just barely deflected. Traveling at reduced velocity and with blunted tips, the two rounds that had carved through the innards of the _Artemis _slammed into the destroyer, bringing down its shields and embedding themselves in the purple ship.

One round found its way into the power conduits, fusing the capacitors of the main reactor. The second had been sent slightly off course and collided with the bow of the Covenant ship, scoring a direct hit on the main plasma cannon, causing all the built up plasma energy to be ejaculated harmlessly into cold empty space.

"_Artemis_, do you read? I repeat, come in _Artemis_. Please respond."

"Answer that hail," Nathanial spoke softly as he picked himself up from where he had been tossed. The wind had been completely knocked from his lungs. The rest of his bridge crew had been smartly strapped into their command chairs. Nathanial's face turned red from the thought but none of the junior officers seemed to notice. Their attention seemed to be fully consumed by the skipping damage report figures scrolling across their screens.

"Sir, the Covenant ship has been neutralized. I am getting only minimal energy readings from the destroyer." A lieutenant who was intently studying the MAC round impacts turned to his Admiral.

"Amazing shooting, sir," she said with a mix of admiration and disbelief readable on her sharp features. "You managed to fuse their power lines and completely destroy the plasma capacitors. I don't know how you did it."

Another lieutenant swiveled in his chair. "That's why he's a Vice-Admiral," a young man answered, pride gleaming from his face. Secondary explosions ripped through the Covenant destroyer as it was caught in the gravitational field of the planet as the looming mass of the _Nylund_ was finally able to maneuver around the outside of the _Artemis_.

A finishing salvo of MAC rounds tore what remained of the craft to shreds. Large pieces of debris were sent into the upper atmosphere of the stormy planet, bright red halos encompassing their purple bodies like a devil's grip.

Nathanial managed a weak smile in lieu of the lieutenant's comment. He knew he was lucky to even provide the correct coordinates for Terry to fire on – even luckier that the C12 charges moved the engine reactors out of the way – and luckier still that the Covenant cruiser hadn't decided to go critical in the ensuing firestorm. Admiral or not, there were some things that a mere rank couldn't take credit for.

"_Artemis_, please be aware that with your current trajectory, you are going to spiral into that nearby planet in less than ten minutes." The smile of Nathanial's face disappeared as the transmission from the _Nylund_ cut across the bridge.

"He's right, Admiral," navigation confirmed. "We probably have more along the lines of eight minutes, sir." During their explosive maneuver, the _Artemis'_ course had been significantly altered. Glimpses of the blue planet could be seen as the disfigured capital ship spun lazily towards its surface.

Nathanial sighed. So maybe they weren't _that_ lucky. In his head, he began to run through tens of simulations on how he could save the ship and her crew. Blowing more C12 charges was more likely to destabilize them further. He was still thinking out several more possibilities as the words calmly left his mouth:

"Give the order to abandon ship."


	16. Chapter 16 Childhood Memories

There was pain and it was everywhere. Emergency lighting flooded the living quarters with a bloody tinge. Tara found herself crumpled into a corner, a supply crate and a couple loose dining trays on top of her. She tried to stand but a strange dizziness overcame her, forcing her to lean back onto the wall and slump down on the crate. Her hand went to brush her long blonde hair from her eyes when she felt the giant lump on her head.

_Ok, so I must have hit my head on something_, she reasoned. A throbbing headache soon made its presence known just as Tara's initial spout of dizziness started to wear off.

_Emergency lighting means power's out. I feel heavy, which means either we've entered a gravity field or there is something else wrong with me on top of this lump._ Tenderly, Tara reached back to feel her head, receiving the same painful response she had experienced the first time.

Next her hand went to her ear, hoping to ask over her headset what the freak was going on. By then she managed to realize that not only was her com set gone, but so was her armor and suit. She was only wearing a standard issue Special Forces formfitting tank top and army shorts. _Where is my suit?_ she wondered. Slowly getting back on her feet and using the wall for support, Tara managed to take a couple steps forward towards the door leading to the Pen before collapsing again.

Through the viewport window in the door, she thought she saw someone looking in at her. The face seemed to be filled with panic and concern. The strong angular jaw line, large disfigured nose and dark brown hair seemed very familiar to her. It almost reminded her of her father. _But that's silly_, Tara reasoned to herself, the throbbing in her head increasing to an almost unbearable level, _dad would never look at me with concern. And besides, he's been dead for years…_

- - - -

It was a sunny afternoon in late August of 2523, one of those fading days of summer where the crisp autumn winds had not yet tickled the color from the proud maple outside. The maple tree had been in front of their home on McDearmon and Seventh since before Tara could remember. Just like all the other homes in the meticulously zoned city, each district seven apartment block had a tree planted in front of it between the road and sidewalk. The house to the right had an oak tree and the one to the left, a hickory. There were no other maple trees on the block, something that made Tara feel special as a child. Now at the old age of 16, she no longer felt particularly special in a world with billions of people, but she could still appreciate the beauty of green leaves turning golden and then red. The tree had been specially imported from Earth almost thirty years ago. It had cost the Syralic development governance committee more money than Tara's father approved of. However, Tara liked the trees all the same.

However, even with the pleasantly brisk fall wind, this day was not one she wanted to remember. Grandpa Wells had been killed. He had died when his caravan had been hit by outlaw raiders from Adriana. Well, killed wasn't the right word. As her father had put it, Grandpa Wells had been _murdered_.

After the territories war, when the UNSC lost control over a large chunk of space near Derra 5, the Adriana sectors had officially broken off from the federation and attempted to form their own independent government. Given Adriana was home to the second largest uranium mines in the quadrant, this gave them a political and economic force with which the UNSC didn't want to contend.

The reported list of UNSC human rights violations in the Adriana sector was long but could never be confirmed. Those inside the sectors attempted to go public with what they called to be irrefutable evidence but were shocked when the TRVA refused to air their report. In return, resistance groups captured a broadcast satellite and hijacked a major news authority wave channel. The feed was cut off, but the five minutes it ran galvanized dissenters across five systems.

Syralic was on the border of the Adriana sector. It was only a matter of time before Tara's home planet was involved. Or, according to her father and certain representatives in the government, due to the attack on the Syralic-based space transpo convoy, already was involved, pulled into a war where there would be no winners.

When the UNSC tried to reassert their authority over the sector, violence broke loose. By selling weapons grade uranium to numerous pirate bands and mercenaries, the citizens in Adriana had managed to amass enough force to require a serious response. The Adrians only wanted recognition as an independent and self-governing sector but their control of the uranium was too vital an asset for the UNSC to allow slip through their fingers. Not only did they require it for powering warships and creating nuclear bombs, but if other outlaw bands began outbidding them for it, the whole situation was likely to turn into one giant slippery slope in the outer territories. Tara sighed and sat down on the front step.

Dad was inside ranting about the government's current response to the attack. Her two brothers stood next to him, silently agreeing with his angry words while Tara's mom sat rocking back and forth on the sofa, grief on her face but her eyes glued to the 24-hour news coverage on the rescue effort.

Grandpa Wells had taught Tara many things. One lesson he had always stressed was for Tara to find something to believe in, something that was important enough that she would never compromise it. He said that having goals was the best way to find one's calling in life. Right away, Tara made her decision. She loved music and wanted to become a famous singer. Grandpa Wells had laughed but it was in a genuine and heartfelt way, not the chiding way her parents had when she told them the same.

Though she had only been about 10 years old at the time, she took her belief and turned it into a passion. Some people used their talents to become stars and make money. At the age of 12, Tara had found another belief she could pursue: human rights. She had made this decision after watching an insider journalist special on slave labor in the Kutcher sectors. The broadcast had moved her deeply. She had told grandpa Wells about her idea and he told her it was the best goal he had ever heard.

The rest of the family, a bit more grounded in reality, encouraged her but also primed her for any disappointment she might face if her songs didn't end up changing the galaxy. By her 16th birthday, the pre-war conflict in the Adriana sector had ballooned to its peak, with every space news feed covering the developing conflict in some way. Tara and some of her friends had been the first to protest the gross violations of human rights that the Adrians were claiming. A transfer student from the inner quadrant of Adriana had told Tara all about it. Some of the other students at Tara's school had even gotten together to picket for continuation of diplomatic negotiations with the Adriana government. Not the usual activities of a normal high school student, but Tara had a passion and a belief that seemed to be contagious.

By this time, any magical charm that Tara's musical ways had had been completely lost on her family. Her new songs had a beautiful melody that sung with sincerity. Sometimes they could even bring tears to adult eyes, even eyes that had been blurred by prejudice, hatred and bitter regret. However, with the talk her father was spouting, no amount of song, convincing or pleading was going to change his mind. Even though he was 42, flatfooted and had a bad heart, he was also a Sergeant in the Syralic planetary guard. The volunteer corps was something that both Tara's brothers were active members in as well.

Though the corps was technically under planetary jurisdiction, they also were also a semi-independent body with private operating funds from a UNSC grant issued a couple centuries ago when Syralic had first gone under terraforming. Her father had been discussing using the grant funded warships to hunt down the Adriana raiders. After banding together with other planetary guard who shared the same desire, they had taken a small fleet of ships out to deal with the raiders. The Syralic ships were easily destroyed by the powerful mercenaries and there were no survivors.

After that day, Tara never sang again. Her old acoustic guitar was kept tuned and polished but neglected in the ways that mattered. After their father's death in a standoff between Adrians and Syralic in a so called "neutral shipping lane," both Tara's older brothers left to join the UNSC navy where they could seek vengeance through the more powerful war machine. Tara stayed home with her mother and remained silent, knowing that her own kin were now involved in the very actions she was so dead set against.

That was 2424. One year later was Harvest. Three years after that, Syralic and everything on it was glassed by a Covenant fleet. The planet had been through a preemptive evacuation and both Tara and her mother made it out two weeks before the Covenant fleet jumped in system. The voyage to the inner colonies took weeks. Tara passed the time reading a book a friend had let her borrow called _Catcher in the Rye_. A red leaf from her maple tree was used as her bookmark – a bookmark that cost the Syralic government thousands of paychips. Tara's mother didn't speak a word throughout the trip, slipping into despair as her family was slowly destroyed by war. Only a month before, word came that Tara's eldest brother James had been killed in an outer colony conflict.

By the time their ship reached Derra V, Tara had made her decision. She had to fight. Time had killed her idealist attitude and war had taken everything dear to her. Words didn't work against politicians or the Covenant and song had even less of a chance. Only action would solve their problems now. Not only that, but the war was the first event that Tara had ever seen bring the majority of humanity together on a united front.

Since the Covenant's systematic extermination of human worlds, petty differences and even huge disagreements between people, planets and sectors had been hastily shoved aside. Survival was the goal now and Tara was going to play her part. In Tara's mind, the Covenant excursion through the galaxy was the largest of human rights violations ever enacted.

Leaving her mother with a friend of the family and taking a small suitcase and her guitar, Tara was almost immediately accepted into Basic by UNSC enlistment. Surprisingly, Tara fit into the military lifestyle with relative ease, finding she had a hidden desire for the rigid, orderly structure.

All the friends she made along the way always wondered about the guitar that accompanied her bunk gear. After a while, they started asking what was in the case because she never took the guitar out. A strange look would cross her beautiful face, a small hint of a smile with a tinge of sadness in her crystal blue eyes, and she would look down and laugh quietly. Her forthright answer "It's a guitar" received "oh's" and "that's what I thought" so after a while, she changed her answers to more cryptic replies. "Childhood memories" and "lost ideology" received much more animated responses from crewmates and Tara was able to engage in dialogue about her hopes and fears about the war and humanity.

Tara's views had a big impact on many of her friends, something that gave her a renewed spirit. She was changing minds about the universe for the better even when deep in the belly of the most destructive war machines humanity had devised. Even more importantly, those minds were of the brave soldiers who could possibly help change policy someday. Just talking about her childhood goal and grandpa Wells seemed to bring her old ideals back to life and even rekindle the desire to sing…almost.

- - - -

"Tara!" Rachel shouted. Tara had been up and walking a second ago. She had looked Rachel right in the eye through the door viewport before falling to the deck floor. Somebody behind Rachel took the helmet out from under her arm and jammed it over her head, engaging the magnetic seal.

"The hull's been breached all over," Joshua's voice informed her over the black helmet's internal com. "Atmosphere is gone in the Pen, cryo, and bridge area."

"And this wing is losing atmosphere as well," Carlyle announced walking in from the launch deck corridor.

Marcus followed him in, holding up his data pad. "Looks like 12 a minute," he confirmed.

"The atmosphere is mainly composed of oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, sulfur, neon and other trace elements. Hydrogen is the primary element in the upper atmosphere." It was Tristina on the broadcast channel. "Please be aware that this atmosphere cannot sustain human life."

"A breath of that will knock you on your ass," Joshua commented, joining the party in the hall.

"The idiot didn't have his filters engaged," Samantha commented, her shotgun balanced over her shoulder. "Anyway, we need to get working on sealin' off as many compartments we can on this wreck."

"Then we need to get Tara out of there now," Rachel said, moving to the manual release for the crew quarters door.

"Don't," Joshua said, his voice sounding a bit raspy and heavy.

"He's right," Marcus agreed, watching the changing numbers on his data pad. "This hallway only has 67 breathable atmosphere." He made a few motions with his finger on the backlit screen. "The LQ area is still fully sealed."

"Everybody to launch bay, now," Jason's voice clicked over the com, suspending all further conversation. The group of _Fireflys_ broke from their current dilemma and piled out of the hallway.

"On our way, Captain – coming in hot," Sam responded, her shotgun barrel leading the way. Rachel un-holstered her sidearm while BR55's and MA6B's were slung around and brought to eye-level. The tone of voice that Jason had used disbanded any doubt that they were in for trouble.


	17. Chapter 17 Casualties of War

"Do you see any more?" Jason whispered, peering through his electro-binoculars out a gaping hole in the launch bay bulkhead. The light inside the launch bay was dim and the glaring yellow light from outside forced Jason to adjust the polarization on his visor. Marlin was crouching next to him behind an M12 LRV, his eye glued to his modified S2 AM sniper scope.

"I swear I saw movement out there," Marlin returned, slowly scanning the area viewable through the five meter gash the crash had inflicted on the hull of the _Disparage_. Giant yellow leaves hid most of the strange metallic looking tree trunks and a light yellow haze floated in and out between everything. Marlin angled up toward the larger branches of the nearest tree. An outline was almost visible amid the haze but he couldn't be sure. Marlin blinked to clear his vision and zoomed in to 10X.

Shimmering in the yellow mist, Marlin could make out a faint form. The form turned quickly, a pair of yellow eyes looking right back down Marlin's line of sight. A large mouth of dangerous looking teeth appeared, a super-sized smile that caused Marlin to jerk back from his scope. Not caring about first-contact etiquette, Marlin regained his composure and zoomed back in, haphazardly taking a shot. The armor piercing round hit nothing, a wave of yellow mist outside sent into a flurry as the high speed projectile displaced the air.

"Shit, shit," Marlin cursed, trying to reacquire his target. "Did you see it?" he asked, looking over to see Jason's BR55 shouldered before the pair of electro-binoculars hit the metal deck.

"No," Jason answered back. He opened a com channel to the rest of the team. "Everybody to the launch bay, now," he ordered.

Zooming into 2X, Jason searched the area for what Marlin had told him looked large, dangerous and possibly camouflaged. Another sweep of the area turned up nothing.

"Sir, take a look at twelve-twenty," Marlin whispered. Panning down, Jason brought his barrel to rest point about twenty meters outside of the hull breach. Tall wavy yellow grass seemed to be moving in a way contrary to how the wind was pushing the fog. It was almost as if something was…

Ten meters out from the downed craft, a blur of motion came shooting in towards the hole in the launch bay. It was so fast and so unexpected that neither hardened Special Forces soldier had a chance to fire. It was a fortunate thing that the creature suddenly split in two mid-flight.

Yellow blood splattered all over the warthog, painting the green vehicle with a thick gooey substance. Wiping off his visor, Jason slipped on the putrid mess, falling backwards. As he landed on his behind, a three round burst escaped from the muzzle of his gun, spraying the inside of the launch bay with lead.

Neither Jason nor Marlin had a chance to react. A strong arm locked in Jason' and practically threw him to his feet, dragging him backwards to the main entrance air lock. The door hissed open as both he and Marlin were hastily thrown inside. Turning around, one of their surprise saviors let out a howl. Four more large armored forms jumped through the door, the final one slamming the emergency blast shutter release, sending a two ton slab of Titanium-A sliding down to the floor. Seemingly out of nowhere, a wave of yellow liquid appeared as the giant pane slammed down, covering the entire passageway in slippery muck. What looked like half a carcass was peeking from under the metal panel. Horrified, Jason reached for his weapon.

He had just been dragged into the hallway by a tall, menacing-looking Covenant elite.

Nathanial was standing on the bridge of the destroyer _Tempest's Dawn_, surveying the obliterated husks of hundreds of Covenant ships. The gigantic armada of UNSC craft, both the _Crimson Star Battalion_ and _Taskforce Salvation_ combined looked like a bit of dust floating outside an expanding cloud of melted metal shards. The two UNSC fleets were hoping to return and catch the remaining Covenant ships off guard and mount a last stand but it appeared that someone or something had beat them to it.

"Are you getting any readings?" Nathanial asked, his words still seeded with a twinge of shock and disbelief, not only due to the graveyard of Covenant ships before his eyes, but all the events that had transpired over the past eight hours. The loss of his ship and crew still had not had a chance to settle in his mind.

Getting everybody off the spinning wreckage of the _Artemis_ had been an impossible task. Over 80 of the lifeboats had already been damaged or destroyed and there was only one docking bay still capable of holding atmosphere. To make matters worse, once the launch doors were opened, there was no way they could ever be closed and re-pressurized. With a staff of several hundred and well over one thousand marines on board, there was no feasible way to get everyone off the ship in eight minutes.

The operational lifeboats were packed to triple capacity and launched. The remaining pelicans and longswords were similarly loaded. Almost two hundred marines suited up in spacegear with propulsion units and were sent out toward the _Nylund_ for pickup. The bridge crew had been lucky in all of it. Almost a quarter of the command level lifeboats had escaped damage.

The evacuation had not exactly been orderly, but given the circumstances, it had proceeded as well as any Admiral could have hoped. Two-thirds of the men and women on his ship knew they only had eight minutes left to live while the rest knew that this was the last they would ever see of their friends. Most of those who were destined to remain on the _Artemis_ spent their final moments recording messages to their families and loved ones. Some prayed, some cried. Others spent their final moments engaged in less orthodox behavior. Each one of their families would receive medals of commendation in the mail.

Nathanial himself had fully intended to go down with his ship. However the brave men and women on the command deck had refused to allow their commanding officer to throw his life away.

"You are coming, Admiral," Brendan Perkins, the weapons lieutenant had stated, a question that held the punch of an order.

Nathanial had been staring at the stars as they drifted lazily across the bridge front viewports. They soon disappeared and were replaced by a massive blue planet that seemed to be getting closer every time the _Artemis_ rotated about.

"Someone needs to stay behind and confirm that the maximum number of personnel have been successfully evacuated," Nathanial said, not fooling anyone.

"I volunteer for that responsibility," Commander Shelia Stein offered, standing at her post.

"I was referring to myself," Nathanial clarified.

"So you are planning on remaining aboard then, sir," Brendan asked.

Nathanial turned toward the younger man. "That is correct," he answered. "And unless you want to volunteer with Corporal Stein, I recommend you make your way to a lifeboat on the double."

Perkins turned to Master Gunnery Sergeant Joyce Reynolds. "Sergeant, I am officially relieving Admiral Hawkins of his command. You are to escort the admiral to the nearest lifeboat and make sure he is safely delivered to the _Nylund_." Nathanial moved and began to protest but Sergeant Reynolds quickly advanced and gently laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Admiral, if you will come with me now…"

Nathanial tried to shrug off her grip but was unsuccessful.

"Now listen here…," he began but was immediately cut off by Perkins.

"Sir, respectfully, when you made your oath of service, you vowed to do everything in your power to serve and protect the UNSC. By needlessly throwing your life away, you will only succeed in hurting the UNSC by depriving it of one of the most skilled officers under its command. Given you are not able to realize this, I have no choice but to relieve you of your command, for the betterment and preservation of our great navy."

Perkins stood at full attention as he recited his intent. Looking around the bridge, Nathanial saw that each one of his trusted officers stood by their posts also at attention, the looks on their faces testifying to their belief in Perkins' words.

"Now, sir," Reynolds said, pushing the admiral forward a step, "unless you want to be responsible for the entire bridge crew's deaths, I suggest you make your way to the lifeboats immediately."

The choice had been made for him. Nathanial had no say in the matter. He let the Sergeant guide him forward, about twenty more officers following them to the already primed lifeboats. Reaching the heavy hydro-magnetic doors to the bridge, Nathanial turned and took one more look back. About thirty of his closest officers remained standing by their posts at attention. With tears forming in his eyes, the admiral snapped one final salute to his command crew, a gesture that was returned in full.

Nathanial turned and walked through the doors, the sound of launch confirmations and clearance orders following him out as the rest of the crew bravely finished their job.

Now he stood on the bridge of the _Tempest's Dawn_, the newly designated flagship of the _Crimson Star Battalion_. The command deck was much larger and more open compared to the _Artemis_. That would take some getting used to. Seven of the senior officers from the _Artemis_ were also aboard, taking up their normal stations as the officers they relieved were sent out to replace junior trainees on other ships in the fleet. With the officer training corps unable to keep up with the amount of causalities the UNSC faced during every hostile engagement, most ships were running with crew that could be called inexperienced at best. An officer who spent over eight months in training could be spent in two seconds of battle against the Covenant.

However, whatever the Covenant had just run up against had turned 500 of their ships into drifting coffins.

"What do you make of it?" Admiral Terry Hawkins asked, transmitting from the _Nylund_.

"It wasn't an accident," Nathanial returned. "Something like that happens for a reason."

"I agree," the older brother responded. "Either way, we need to get to Earth ASAP. If the Covenant does indeed have the coordinates to Earth, we will be needed on the front lines."

Nathanial opened a channel to his remaining fleet, 28 proud capital ships strong. "Ready Shaw-Fujikawa drives and randomized jump coordinates. There is enough junk out there that we can't scan it all. Make sure that none of it follows you to Rendezvous B."

"Admiral," Terry's voice rang once again over the bridge speakers of the _Tempest's Dawn_, "randomized jumps and procedures leading up to Rendezvous B will take a good three hours. I request your personal council for that time. A shuttle is currently docking with your ship to bring you aboard the _Nylund_."

Nathanial hesitated a moment but then quickly responded. "Acknowledged, _Nylund_. Out."


	18. Chapter 18 Tension

"Freeze!" Sam shouted, rounding the corner to the launch bay airlock and finding herself face to face with a hulking Elite, a sight that caused her to back step rapidly. Her eyes nervously darted between the five other hulking aliens crowded in the narrow hallway. Jason and Marlin were sitting up on the floor, both of them covered in a disgusting looking yellow slime. Scanning the area with her peripheral vision, Samantha noticed that the yellow mess coated the entire hall, walls, ceiling and floor. The six Elites sunk back in lieu of Sam's loud order and shotgun, bringing up their own plasma rifles and cautiously murmuring to one another.

"Hold your fire!" Jason yelled over the com, thankful that Sam's usual instinct of shoot first, ask questions later, hadn't caused her to do anything rash. "Do not engage, they are not a threat, they…"

Carlyle came skidding around the corner next, his weapon still brandished. One of his feet found a large patch of yellow slime, causing him to skid forward directly into Sam. Bracing her shoulder on the bulkhead, Sam managed to catch Carlyle's weight and stop him, all the while keeping her shotgun barrel level at the intruders.

However, what happened next was unavoidable. Both Rachel and Marcus came tumbling in after Carlyle, both of them slipping on the yellow mess and falling to the deck floor. Their combined mass slid over the greased deck plates and cut both Carlyle's and Samantha's feet out from under them. The four _Fireflys_ ended up in a giant heap in the corner, completely covered in yellow slime, unable to get to their feet given everything around them was engulfed by slippery yellow mess.

Joshua found his way to the traffic jam seconds later. Hearing his captain's order to hold his fire, he proceeded forward carefully with his weapon down, not knowing what to be more shocked about, the sight of four of his teammates engaged in what looked like a lemon Jello wrestling tournament or the small congregation of nervous looking Elites who seemed to be trying to cram themselves into the corner by the airlock door.

Carlyle was trying his hardest to pick himself up from the floor and continued to fail at everything but looking like a beached fish. Marcus had managed to slide himself back around the corner out of view of the Elites though his gun remained in the pool of yellow slime. Rachel was sitting up in the yellow mess, rocking back and forth while cradling her right leg. Samantha remained laying in the mess, her shotgun still aimed up at the nearest Elite's face.

Just then, the armory door slid open. Stepping right into the middle of the mess, Spartan Claver looked to his right at the Elites and back left at the struggling _Fireflys_. Then, carefully and deliberately, walked toward Samantha and pushed the barrel of her shotgun down. "These _Entrenors _are not our enemy."

If an Elite could look surprised, Jason swore that the two meter tall alien was taken aback by the Spartan's comment. By this time, Jason had managed to find his feet and turned slowly toward the Elites.

"Even if you wanted to, you couldn't shoot us. I can tell by your weapon that its power core is exhausted." The menacing elite looked at the human for a moment, then lowered its plasma rifle. Jason exhaled heavily.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the elite barked. His voice sounded gruff and raspy, like an elite with a cold, if they could catch colds.

"Well, if you didn't notice our fancy landing, we crashed," Carlyle answered, pulled to his feet by Claver.

The elite stared blankly at Carlyle for a moment, then hurriedly said, "I suppose the rest can be saved for a later time. For now, it would be best if you were to follow us back to our camp. Once this planet's nocturnal cycle commences, you do not want to be outside the compound, or anyplace without thick walls for that matter."

"We're not leaving without Tara," Rachel jumped in, seeming to be completely oblivious to the fact that a Covenant elite was inviting them over for something that was definitely not tea. Joshua was kneeling down by her side unsuccessfully inspecting her right leg through her suit. Rachel looked at Jason and Jason, in turn, looked at the Elite doing all the talking. Its golden armor was scuffed and tarnished but the shimmering shields still sent small vibrations through the air.

The gold elite glanced back as if it were pondering their options. "This craft is not adequately defended. It would not be good to stay any longer than necessary." To make matters even tenser, a loud banging noise began sounding throughout the hallway. Something large was attacking the Titanium-A blast plate. "It will not take them long to tear through that panel," the Elite stated, turning back to check the door behind them.

"That's Titanium-A plating," Samantha said, knowing well that even a Spartan wouldn't be able to bring the door down.

The Elite made a dismissive worty noise and turned back to Jason, already recognizing him as the leader. "We do wish to know how you got here," it continued, "specifically, what device on your craft allowed you to enter this space. A craft with normal sublight engines would not be able to navigate the nebulae and black holes."

"You mean a slipspace drive?" Marcus offered. The Elite looked over at the techie. Samantha took her shotgun and shoved it into the young soldier's stomach, hard.

"I do not know what that is. Does it allow you to travel between the stars?"

"Yes, it does," Jason responded, stepping forward. Samantha shot a look to her CO but her shotgun remained at her side.

"Then we will require it," the Elite stated. "How big is this instrument?"

The ever-helpful Marcus jumped back in and began making arbitrary movements with his arms, trying to give the alien a sense of the slipspace drive's size. "About as big as…three warthogs I suppose." The Elite cocked its head to the right.

"Is that large?" it asked.

Samantha slapped her forehead.


	19. Chapter 19 Content To Dissent

Jacobs opened his eyes. There was a pounding in his head. Or maybe there was a pounding outside of his head. Or maybe there was a pounding both inside and outside of his head. An unbearably loud squawking exploded inside his right ear causing him to violently jerk to the side and smash his helmet into the adjacent bulkhead. As if agitated, the noise only became louder. Disengaging the magnetic seal and ripping off his helmet, Jacobs grabbed at his com transceiver. The speaker had been jammed into his ear. Blood began dripping down his neck and onto his shoulder.

With a pop of suction, Jacobs wrenched the transceiver free and threw it at the deck plates. The crimson covered device clattered across the floor. The casing was cracked, probably from being crushed between the helmet and his skull during their "landing."

"What the hell are you doing?" It was Marlin. His fists were resting on the airlock door leading to the Pen. The banging outside Jacobs' head ceased but the pain and pressure on the inside only seemed to worsen. He probably had a concussion.

"I'm bleeding all over the floor, what the hell does it look like?" Jacobs snapped back, coughing violently over the words.

"Put your helmet back on," Marlin ordered, "we're losing atmosphere."

Jacobs tried to yell back at the sniper but the words got caught in his throat. It felt as if something was choking him. Gasping and coughing, Jacobs fell over to the floor. Marlin rushed to his side, retrieving his helmet and jamming it back over the demolitions expert's head. The tension in Jacobs' throat seemed to lessen slightly, but each breath he drew in seemed to get smaller and smaller. Sploches of white began to appear in his vision as his brain screamed for oxygen. He could hear Marlin's shouting as the world seemed to drift away.

* * *

He couldn't breathe. It felt like his wrist was broken too.

"Nod if you understand what I am saying," the man ordered in a gruff military voice. Lionel Jacobs glared back at the man but nodded.

"Now, I will let go of your throat under two conditions," the man said. Jacobs nodded again, his bargaining position somewhat lacking under the circumstances. "One, you cease all hostile acts for the next two hours. Can you comply with this request?" Another nod. "Good." The man smiled. His graying eyebrows took on a friendlier shape though the piercing blue eyes they framed remained sharp and observant. The man stated the second condition. "Two, you come with me to lunch." Jacobs hesitated for a moment, completely caught off guard by the request, but quickly nodded again. Immediately, the pressure on his windpipe disappeared and the grip on his right wrist released. Coughing, Jacobs slowly withdrew his arm from the broken car window, his eyes never leaving the sharp gaze of his would-be victim.

"Well, get in," the man said, motioning with his head for Jacobs to get in the passenger seat. Still not sure if he should break for it, Jacobs nervously walked around the front of the 345BL Slider and opened the passenger door. Jacobs' recently acquired handgun rested on the driver's lap. From everything he had just experienced in the past thirty seconds, Jacobs was confident that the man would have no difficulty shooting him if he tried to run.

Jacobs slid onto the genuine leather seat of the luxury sedan. He had barely pulled his foot in the vehicle when the mysterious man gunned the accelerator.

"Please excuse my driving, but if you can understand, I was already late to begin with." The 770 horsepower vehicle sped from the stop light and launched itself onto a nearby express ramp, hugging the side of the gentle curve and blasting out onto the Grand Traverse highway. Jacobs clicked his safety restraints as the tall buildings outside flashed by.

"Major General Landon Bettel," the man shouted over the roaring wind caused by the broken driver side window.

Jacobs sat up straighter in his seat. "Sir," was all he could bring himself to say. Inside his head, Jacobs was silently cursing at himself. His first attempt at carjacking and he ends up trying to heist a Major General. What luck.

"Some rough times in this area," the General shouted casually.

"Sir," Jacobs answered again.

"With all those plant closings, this side of the river might end up like Casings and Bahajadar." Jacobs gave a quick nod. Major General Landon Bettel gave his new passenger a quick evaluative once-over, glancing from the traffic he was weaving in and out of for just a moment.

"So what's an honest worker like yourself doing carjacking out in the middle of the day?" the General asked, looking blankly ahead and concentrating on navigating the congested high-rise express way toward an exit ramp.

'_Honest' worker?_ Jacobs thought to himself, wondering if the General was being sarcastic. Regaining a bit of composure, Jacobs replied, "What makes you think that I am even employed?"

The general smiled. "That would explain it then." Slingshotting around another corner and down an eight-lane ground-level street, the car came to a screeching halt in front of the Traverse Military outpost. Not needing to roll down the window, the general passed his credentials to the guard standing duty.

"Is everything OK sir?" the blue uniformed soldier asked, eyeing both the broken window and the Major General's guest suspiciously.

"Just a normal day in the city," the general replied with a smile. The guard waved to her companion in the explosives-hardened security booth and the heavy metal gates retracted into the road. The guard handed the credentials back through the broken window.

"The committee is expecting you," she informed. The general just smiled.

"Your worker's vera," the general continued, bringing the vehicle around the main drive and sliding into an open parking space. Jacobs looked down to his waist where the empty holster for his portable vera was clipped to the belt loop at his side. F-Veras were used to check energy readings on output couplings in starship fusion drives. "I expect you were laid off in one of the plant closings," Bettel stated, pulling a folder of papers and datachips out from the middle console of the vehicle. "Things must be getting pretty hard if honest workers have to resort to criminal behavior."

Jacobs couldn't stifle a sardonic laugh. "Well, it was either toss you out of your ride or I get tossed out of my apartment." Jacobs turned and looked the general in the eye for the first time. "The only one in my family to get out of the project and get an honest job and, go figure, I'm the only one being evicted." Jacobs shifted in the seat of the car so he was facing the General. "Did you know that I can get my year's worth of rent from one of these fancy cars you government military people drive?"

The general looked at Jacobs and nodded, then turned and popped open the car door. Broken glass clinked to the reinforced concrete parking lot. The sound made Jacobs cringe, reminding him of his precarious position. He got out of the car and quickstepped to follow the general toward the front entrance. The general's pace was swift and exuded purpose and dignity. Jacobs, on the other hand, looked more like a small child stumbling frantically to catch up with a parent.

A cool breeze was startling to the skin as Jacobs jogged through the automatic door into the large military gray building. Two more armed guards were waiting just inside the entrance. The floors were gray textafirm tiles and so were the walls. A white crescent-shaped receptions desk sat several meters back from the entrance. Two gray tile hallways ran to the left and right behind the desk. The clerk at the desk jumped to attention and saluted. Bettel stopped and acknowledged with a salute of his own before continuing down the left hallway. Jacobs followed the general quickly, throwing a salute to the clerk before passing.

"Where are we doing here exactly," Jacobs asked, trailing the general in a brisk walk.

"Meeting some friends for lunch," the Major General responded, turning sharply down another hallway and then slipping through a glass door. Jacobs moved to follow but froze dead in his tracks when he got a good luck through the door. Sitting around a large black table was a parade of military man power that he had only seen before on televised broadcasts. Bettel turned and gave Jacobs a look that melted his frozen body. Jacobs down at his watch. One hour, 37 minutes to go.

During the meeting, Bettel turned into a creature completely different from the cool and easy going man with whom Jacobs had rode in the car. Of all the high ranking officers, he was the loudest, most opinionated in the group, challenging almost everything the others had to say and quieting only when he had answers that seemed to satisfy him. Jacobs couldn't tell if the man was simply playing devil's advocate or if he truly felt for what he argued. Even when the others gave answers that made perfect sense to Jacobs, Bettel grunted, sat back in his chair, and smugly crossed his arms. Though Jacobs wasn't extremely familiar with the military, he was pretty sure that at least a couple of the officers at the table out ranked the Major General.

On the car ride back, Bettel reverted to his more friendly persona, a somewhat jarring experience for his lunch companion. It was quiet for the first couple minutes until Jacobs worked up the courage to ask:

"So are you bipolar or something?" The Major General laughed.

"You should have seen that committee two years ago," Bettel answered. "Two of them were members from High Command and the rest of the committee would sit there and do nothing but agree and kiss ass."

"Sounds about right to me," Jacobs answered, not surprised that the military worked like the rest of the business world. _Eaton Corp._, the company of which he was a former employee, closed their doors pleading a tragic case of strategic outsourcing and production streamlining. That decision was made by a committee of suits that were completely detached from the working man's realities, just like the officers on the military committee were probably divorced from frontline, live combat.

"I was assigned to represent the 12th district on the committee in the place of my superior officer," Bettel reminisced out loud. "I remember what he said those years ago. He said, 'Bettel, if you ever want to get ahead, you're going to need to sit on committees like this. However, for a man like you, it might make you go insane. Good luck, son.'" Bettel laughed again. "My first meeting, I think I pissed off representatives from at least half the Earth-based infantry division."

Feeling more comfortable with the eccentric general, Jacobs commented, "It seems like you're still doing a good job at that." The general laughed again.

"Well I don't sit on committees for my health. If I'm going to be there, they're going to hear my voice and they're not going to like it." The general turned and looked at Jacobs. "Six months after I was assigned to the committee, the two High Command representatives resigned. It seemed that they didn't take to well to having a committee that thought for itself."

"What do you mean?" Jacobs asked, motioning to the general to take the next exit toward his apartment complex.

"When you have someone sitting next to you, questioning everything you say, you learn quickly that if you don't have any valid support for your argument, you just end up looking like a big ass. If you challenge people enough, they learn to think a little harder before opening their mouths." The general looked back over to Jacobs, something he always did when he was about to disclose something important. "I can sit at that table and complain and make people do what I want them to. However, if I can get those same people to think outside of the box, anticipate what I will say to counter their argument, and adapt, well then, we might even make some intelligent decisions once in a while."

"And do they ever come to a conclusion that satisfies you?" Jacobs asked. "You sat there drilling everyone with questions but you didn't really offer any answers of your own."

"You have to ask the right question before you can get the right answer," the Major General returned. "I simply make sure that we have approached an issue from a multitude of different viewpoints. Only then can you develop the best plan of action."

"So how many of these "best plans" have you come up with," Jacobs asked, interested in how the General would respond.

"None," the General answered almost too casually.

"So what about all that talk about getting people to think outside of the box and everything?" Jacobs challenged.

The general looked over at his passenger with a bewildered expression. "Good grief, son, I'm just a Major General, not God. You find me a military committee that can agree on a good decision and I'll show you a corporate board of directors that puts employee satisfaction before profitability."

"Point taken," Jacobs gave. The Major General laughed.

"I like you," the general said after a moment, a statement that caught Jacobs off guard.

"Are you trying to make friends with the man who tried to jack your car only three hours ago?" Jacobs poked, "I guess that's another case for the oxymoron 'Military Intelligence.'"

"It's more like a feeling I get about people every now and then," Bettel answered. "You take matters into your own hands. Now all we have to do is make sure what you're doing is legal and then I think we may be onto something."

It was Jacobs' turn to laugh. "And what if you're wrong about me?"

Bettel gave Jacobs another one of his sly looks as the car slowed to a stop outside the high rise apartment complex. "When in the business of making people rethink their ideas, I make it my business to never be wrong."

"Well if you're never wrong," Jacobs said, not believing the General possessed omnipotent abilities but still curious enough to ask, "how come you're not calling all the shots?"

"There is a huge difference between being 'right' and 'not being wrong,'" Bettel replied.

Jacobs understood what the General was getting at but still didn't believe that he was infallible. "I mean, when you're making character judgments on people that tried to jack your car three hours ago, I don't think that having a vague definition of 'right' and 'not wrong' can really hold up in every situation."

The General smiled again and handed a small card to the unemployed would-be criminal. "Then prove me wrong and don't show up here on Monday at 0800."

Jacobs took the offering and flipped it around in his fingers. After reviewing the security encoded digital business chip-card, Jacobs looked back up at the General and gave him an acknowledging, non-committal nod.

Jacobs didn't wave as the General's car sped away, leaving him in front of the apartment on which he owed two months of back rent. He was more preoccupied wondering what he was going to do with the new future he held cradled in his hand.


	20. Chapter 20 Risk

"Now I know you probably still hate me..."

"What could have ever given you that idea?" Nathanial asked, cutting his brother off in a tone only readable by family. It was a subtle tenor that exuded annoyance, indifference and exasperation – but only to those ears conditioned to pick up on the subtle raise in pitch and heavy delivery. The words almost echoed in the room.

Terry's Admiral's quarters were spacious and richly decorated. Nathanial was disgusted at the ostentatious display. High ceilings with natural wood inlays: marble trimmed support columns. Huge viewing windows reaching from the vaulted ceiling to the plush carpet were a magnificent backdrop to the highly decorated Admiral's desk.

"Well, first off, you never call…"

Nathanial whipped around and gave his brother one of his patented death stares. The elder Admiral seemed unfazed.

"If you wanted to talk tactics, you've got two hours," Nathanial deadpanned, his patience worn thin by stress, lack of sleep and the fatigue of battle along with all the causalities it had brought.

"I didn't bring you here to talk tactics," the elder admiral admitted. "We both know how to deal with the Covenant. I asked you to come here because we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Nathanial stood staring at his older brother for a moment. "So you want to patch things up a little talk and hug before we both go off to die?" he finally gave. Now that the Covenant knew about Earth, it was only a matter of time. Even with the loss of hundreds of ships, Nathanial knew that would not stop the alien war machine from glassing the planet. Their single-minded ferocity in battle left no doubt of this in his mind.

Terry looked genuinely hurt by Nathanial's sarcastic words, an expression that Nathanial couldn't believe to be sincere.

The older brother trudged onward.

"You remember the conflict at Terrace from seven years ago…" he prefaced, diverting his own hazel eyes from the icy gaze of his brother's.

Nathanial stood stiffly at attention, unreadable.

"Well, what I am going to tell you is strictly confidential. I am asking that you don't repeat anything that you hear here and…"

Nathanial cut his brother off. "I know procedure on classified information so don't cardinal me with your pretentious protocol." Terry took a slow, controlled breath.

"Nathan, I said confidential, not classified. This is a request, not an order." The expression on Nathanial's face softened a bit as his curiosity jumped, but remained unconvinced of his brother's intentions. The older man continued.

"I need you to know the truth about…well, everything. I'll do my best to keep it coherent, but I have a lot that I need to say and so little time in which to say it. I suppose I had better start with Canastas…"

Rachel's leg was numb. The feeling was somewhat better than pain, but annoyingly disorienting nonetheless. And for a soldier, that slightest disorientation had the potential to spell the difference between life and death.

Samantha had injected the sprained muscle with a tissue regenerative-solution on the engineering deck, one of the few spaces on the _Disparage_ that still contained breathable atmosphere. Even so, immediately after Samantha had patched her leg, Rachel donned her helmet and resealed her suit. The _Disparage_ was running on emergency backup reserve cells and nobody knew if or when they might unexpectedly cut out.

The air scrubbers were one of a few remaining systems slowly depleting the cells' from their dangerously low 16 power. Once the cells were completely drained, Rachel and her squadmates would be left with only their individual suit air decontamination units, units that would only last for another two days at most: and that was if she monitored and rationed each and every breath she took. If trouble showed up, as she was sure it would, any sort of combat or strenuous movement would cut their air filter units' lifespan in half, something that held grave consequences for the soldiers depending on them.

Jason and his team had taken all but two of the replacement filters when they left with the Covenant "rescuers." Rachel, along with Samantha, Carlyle, and Joshua, had been charged with guarding the Slipspace drive, their only hope to get back home. Berry had also stayed to fiddle with the drive and prepare it for possible transport. He was sealed off in the engineering subsection that housed the ship's highly experimental, miniaturized Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Slipspace drive.

Hobbling slightly on her numb leg, Rachel shuffled over to Joshua. The bulky man sat on the hard metal floor, leaning back heavily against a stack of crates with his light gun emplacement primed and aimed at the airlock door. Rachel knew that it was because of Joshua and herself that anyone remained with the _Disparage_. Joshua had taken a few accidental breaths of the atmosphere when his filter hadn't engaged. Rachel had once seen the hulking man lift a jammed hatch on a burning Scorpion tank to let a teammate escape. The strongest member of their squad now sat almost completely incapacitated, his hand resting weakly on the trigger of his gun. Rachel did a quick vitals check on her teammate. The HUD blinking in her peripheral vision indicated his blood pressure was in the red and that the internal hemorrhaging seemed to be spreading, slowly seeping like a cancer through his vital organs. Two empty canisters of biofoam sat uselessly on the deck floor.

"You may want to disengage his air filter and reserve its use for your team later," a startling voice offered. Rachel looked over to her left at the towering blue armored elite. Its jaw mandibles clicked nervously.

"We don't do that to our own," Rachel spat in annoyed defense, an automatic response that she immediately regretted but for which offered no apology. The elite nodded slightly and then resumed minding his own business. Two from the elite squad had been ordered to remain with the derelict _Disparage_ to defend the Slipspace drive and the five man _Firefly_ team.

The elite leader had felt confident that an empty space ship would hold little interest to the natural predators on the world and that the Slipspace drive would be left unharmed once the native species found that there were no life forms aboard. However, Jason knew that Joshua would have never made it to the Covenant camp and that Rachel would only be a hindrance with her limited mobility. After a short discussion, the elite leader agreed to leave two of his soldiers to help defend the craft, stating that he was not positive the Slipspace drive would be left untouched by the native inhabitants. Rachel couldn't tell if the elite leader was sincere in his concern or if it was simply a gesture of respect to another fellow commanding officer forced to make difficult decisions with downed men. Both Simmons and Claver had departed with the remaining _Fireflys_ and the elites, oddly remaining silent as Jason made all the orders on how to proceed.

Rachel knew that the decision to stay was a huge risk for Samantha, Carlyle and Berry, as well as the two elites. Judging from what the _Sangheili_, had disclosed about the planet and its atmosphere, the air and soil contained micro bacteria that attacked any and all exposed organic material. Everything struggling to live on the planet was sheathed in a synthetic-metallic compound that the bacteria could not penetrate. The huge tears in the _Disparage's_ titanium-A plating could attest to that fact. The forest of metal coated trees had proved to be more than the hardened armor could handle.

As for the bacteria, it was slowly consuming Jacob's body from the inside out. Elite shields were enough to keep it at bay, as were the _Firefly_ combat suits. However, as Jason had discovered before departing with Marcus, Darious, Marlin, Simmons, Claver and the rest of the elite team, the bacteria seemed to do a very good job of clogging the air scrubber filters. A filter that had the projected lifespan of two weeks in an atmosphere rated at 10 oxygen was cut down to a day or two on this miserable alien planet. Hopefully, that would be all the time the Captain and his new friends would need to come back and pick up the drive.

So now, they waited.

Carlyle was out setting up traps throughout the powerless corridors of the _Disparage_, guarded by Samantha's shotgun and the other elite. Their periodic com checks informed Rachel that they had decorated the main launch bay with a plethora of Lotus Anti-tank mines. Subsequent corridors boasted trip wired grenades and other nasty surprises that Carlyle had devised. In his old team, Carlyle had been the "ninja." If something called for close encounter stealth ops or the elimination of a single or small group of targets, Carlyle was first in line. Infiltration and assassination. The man could disappear in a split second with his camogear only to reappear two steps behind you. Regardless if he was in the wilderness or deep in an industrial city, if there was cover, Carlyle knew the best way to utilize it against his enemies and blend in with chameleon-like abilities. Similar to how Jacobs had operated, Carlyle kept mostly to himself, not crossing the line of a "working relationship" with any of the other _Fireflys_.

Samantha, Carlyle and the other elite, U'biques, were now holed up in one of the other airtight rooms down the corridor from engineering. If anything managed to get past them, it was up to Joshua and herself…and the elite Za'tuluki.

Rachel turned to look at the elite, startled to find it curiously staring at her. "What is it?" Rachel asked, her tone still harsh and unforgiving. To speak civilly to an elite soldier was something that would take time for her to learn. When one's only prior correspondence with the race of aliens consisted of angry insults punctuated by other tasteless choice phrases, old habits often engaged before her mind could catch up; a lifesaving trademark of a battle-hardened soldier.

Za'tuluki either ignored the underlying tone of the question or did not recognize it. "I am always amazed when seeing a new species for the first time," he answered in a deep bass. "It is quite amazing." After waiting a couple moments, the elite added, "It is also a pleasure to find a new species that is not intent on killing me."

Rachel thought through the irony of the statement in the privacy of her own head.

"So how many of these _Ki-shin_ have you killed," Rachel asked, referring to the hostile alien life form that she had been told about. If everything the departing elites had said was true, they were adversaries that were not to be taken lightly.

"A total of one hundred forty seven _Ki-shin_ have fallen to my blade," the elite proudly stated, bringing the cylindrical hilt of his deactivated energy sword forward in a triumphant salute.

"Hmmmm," Rachel mused. "Tell me again about these _Ki-Shin_," she requested.

The elite straightened up as if in the presence of a commanding officer, something that made Rachel even more uncomfortable.

"The _Ki-Shin­ _possess a keen ability to hunt and locate prey. When engaged in combat with a _Ki-Shin_, it is a kill or be killed situation. _Ki-Shin_ usually hunt in a packs numbering no less than three. Their hide consists of a coat of protective pseudo-transparent metallic spines that can furl outward when threatened or angered. When wet, the metallic coating gels into a semi-reflective luster, enabling the _Ki-Shin_ to blend in with their surroundings." Za'tuluki looked down at his pupil and reassured, "However, to the trained eye, one can detect them easily, even amid the forest."

"_Great,"_ Rachel thought to herself. An enemy possessing armor suited for defense and offense, limited cloaking capability and strong enough to down an elite in hand-to-hand combat. Not something that any sniper would be pleased about in such conditions. Samantha and even Carlyle were more comfortable with combat in close quarters, but to a sniper, short and narrow halls, confined spaces cluttered with cover, and the absence of high ground was a nightmare. Rachel knew that she was probably the best sniper in the ranks of UNSC Special Forces, but felt vulnerable without Marlin either covering her or by her side.

Four years ago on Canastas, Rachel had met Marlin for the first time while under nightmarish circumstances. Rachel's retreating squad had run across Marlin's covering fire position in an effort to regroup with the rest of the team. Unfortunately, they had managed to run right into a trap.

Four Jackals in ambushing positions had been dropped by Marlin before Rachel and her team even had a chance to react. Two of Rachel's longtime teammates, Erica and Robert, fell to the barrage of needler shards that rained down upon them from two opposing rocky peaks. Rachel and her CO, Samantha, had managed to dive behind a formation of boulders as the pink shards bounced and pinged like a rainstorm of crystalline death. Stuck in a rocky gorge with no clear view of the enemy positions, Rachel and Samantha could only wait and listen to the rhythmic boom of friendly sniper fire.

Two magazines later, Marlin had dispatched a crew of Grunts, bringing the pink onslaught to a welcome close.

A single beam transmission carried the voice of a veteran sniper. "Point D-5-3. Possible extraction being obtained. Rendezvous with you at K-13-15. Out."

Right away, Rachel knew she was listening to a sniper who was out of options. Even with single beam transmissions, the point of origin could still be tracked by those who knew what to listen for. A sniper risking such a transmission was either crazy or desperate or crazy. After getting to know Marlin over the past four years, Rachel had found that the man was crazy; crazy and _good_.

During the battle through the Canastas Covenant hangar, Marlin and Rachel were given assault rifles and Covenant plasma weapons to use for the close quarters hallways. Rachel had enough experience with the standard issue MA2B rifle to be a force to be reckoned with and accepted the gun readily. However, Marlin declined the Covenant plasma rifle offered to him and in favor of his more familiar S2 AM sniper rifle and M6D pistol.

As the remaining 12 soldiers battled their way through the purple alloy hangar, keeping the two "vulnerable" snipers in the center of their ranks, a hallway door unexpectedly opened right next to Rachel and Marlin. Flanked by a blue elite on both sides stood a hulking form with a plasma sword and gold armor.

"Down!" Marlin had shouted, turning to face the unexpected threat. Rachel shouldered her assault rifle but Marlin was a step ahead of everybody. Without even bringing the sniper rifle to his shoulder, Marlin sent one round through the head of the blue elite on the right. Swinging to the left, another .50 caliber round sent the gold elite stumbling, its shields dancing with enraged light energy. The second blue elite caught a third un-scoped round to the head, sending out a blue-purple spray across the hallway. The final bullet in the magazine caught the gold elite in the head again as Marlin's barrel swung back to the right, the impact causing the alien to stumble back a step. Without missing a beat, Marlin's sniper rifle clattered to the floor as he un-holstered his M6D and leveled it at the recovering elite. Walking forward with steady purpose, Marlin sent a round into the elite's head with each pull of the trigger. The first eight caused the elite's personal shields to flicker angrily. The ninth penetrated them and entered the staggering elite commander's skull, dropping it to the floor.

The hallway doors blinked and slid closed as Marlin turned around and reloaded his pistol. Walking back to the rest of the slightly shocked human group, the sniper kicked up his rifle from the floor into his hand, ejected the empty magazine, and fed it a fresh clip. Looking up at the amazed expressions that were trained on the sniper that just downed three elites in close range combat, Marlin smiled faintly and shrugged. Rachel knew that it was shallow and superficial, but she instantly fell in love with the man.


	21. Chapter 21 Alliance

Towering jagged rock walls lined the ravine leading to the Covenant stronghold. Tall purple metal barriers had been erected, bowing out from the cliff face of the mountain and encasing the base in embracing arms of protection. A pair of Shades sat on the high thick walls and three plasma turrets were positioned around them. Jason could see the heads of Grunts peeking from between the gun sights of the three smaller emplacements. The Shades appeared to be inactive.

Glassed rock extended from the base of the walls out about fifty meters, melted flat by plasma bombardment as to offer an unobstructed view of the entire perimeter.

Towering over the ten-meter walls was the streamlined hulk of a Covenant craft. The type was unfamiliar to Jason but that could have been attributed to the fact that the alien ship looked to have shared a similar fate as the _Disparage _upon its landing. Jason counted three capital grade cannons protruding from the side of its mass and pointing upward at the sky.

As the returning party neared the walls, two giant blast doors slowly swung open, allowing a small guard of armed elites to scurry out in a cover formation. Jackals with old-school beam rifles cast nervous glances down at the newcomers while scanning the rapidly darkening forest line through vacuum sealed helmets. Jason turned and readied his BR55 while his team and the last of the elites backed in through the doors as they clanged shut. Jason relaxed a bit as the heavy locks were secured, but hoped he had made the correct decision in leading his team here. They were now within the jaws of the beast, though it didn't seem particularly hungry at the moment.

"What do you know about the _Entrenors_?" the elite asked once they were within the high walls of the purple compound. "Who are you and where do you come from?"

Marcus gave the elite a blank stare. "We're humans," he said, his fingers twitching on his weapon.

The elite looked vaguely thoughtful, as thoughtful as an elite could look that is. Jason still couldn't read their expressions from happy to angry to constipated. "I see," the elite said at last, obviously not understanding anything. "I would tell you that we are Elites, Jackals and Grunts, but it seems that you are already familiar with our Coven."

_They have no idea who we are_, Jason thought to himself, relieved that his earlier suspicion was confirmed.

"How long have you been stranded here?" Jason asked, choosing to not reveal any more to the aliens unless they asked.

"Two and a half universal lunar cycles," the elite responded. "However, you did not yet answer my initial question," he said, turning to Claver, "how you know about the _Entrenors_."

"Do you have a place where we can discuss this in private?" Simmons asked, stepping forward.

The elite stared blankly back at the man for a moment then began to move toward a door in the cruiser that had been dug out of the ground. It seemed that the wreck had crashed landed into the rocky cliff and had not been moved since. Jason began to follow the HC Commander when Simmons turned to his new companion. "It appears that your situation is somewhat dire," he spoke. "If you would be so kind as to brief my men on your current standing, I am sure they can be useful in some way." The elite gestured to one of his crew and motioned to Jason and his men, all the while looking back and forth between Simmons and Jason as if confused about the chain of command. Simmons turned to Jason. "Thank you, Captain," he said in a tone that solidified his intention to meet with the elite leader without a Firefly presence.

"I am Elutar," the elite in blue armor stated. "This ship you see before you is what is left of the _Prophet's Fist_, a _Ralathar_-class cruiser, now a converted defensive bunker." Jason surveyed the craft. It was large enough to be classified as a medium sized _corvette_-class ship by human standards, and from the looks of things, probably five or six interstellar category grades more powerful than the _Disparage_.

"By defense, you mean defense against the _Ki-shin_?" Darius asked.

If an elite could smile, Elutar just did, the corners of his jaw raising ever so slightly. "If you will follow me, I will show you." Elutar continued speaking as he led them to another entrance on the _Prophet's Fist_, this one having had a dirt ramp constructed up two meters to reach the blast doors on the side of the ship. The purple alloy sheets slid open with only minor protest and Elutar led his human train aboard like a mother goose caring for her ducklings. "Watch the first step," he warned as he entered. "The artificial gravity is still operational. However, there are parts of the ship where the gravity well generators have been deactivated to conserve power. Then you will have to accommodate a 12 slant."

Jason deactivated his air filter and set it to auto clean, hoping to squeeze a couple more minutes into the depleted filter's life while inside the pressurized Covenant craft. It was a lucky thing that humans and elites both breathed approximately the same composition of atmosphere. Knowing this, Jason wondered if the Elite home planet looked anything like Earth. Leading the way through the maze of corridors, Elutar answered the marine's many questions like a tour guide at an amusement park.

"So what happened here?" Jason asked.

"We crashed when the automated inhabitants of the Halo ring attacked our ship," he answered.

"I should have guessed from the energy scorching on your hull," Darius observed. "So what happened to us was just the usual welcome I suppose."

Elutar stumbled a step forward. "Well, they may have modified their first contact protocol since we last broke contact with them…" he responded, regaining his balance. Jason walked around the spot where Elutar had stumbled, wondering if there was a problem with the artificial gravity. The rest of the _Fireflys_ followed a similar path.

"For being so small, they sure manage to pack a punch," Marcus chattered. "They fried our engines real good with those beam lasers."

Jason and Marlin both shot Marcus a sharp glance. Revealing the particulars of their situation was probably not the wisest thing to do, something Marcus quickly understood. Elutar however, didn't seem to think that holding back information was something to worry about.

"So how many of you survived the crash," Marlin asked as they turned a corner into another identical, dimly lit purple hallway.

"Twenty-seven of us total. Ten of us Elites, six jackals and eleven grunts. However, our current numbers are down to sixteen, six elites, four jackals and six grunts." Jason thought quietly to himself. Those numbers were pretty stacked against his four men should the Covenant aliens decide to turn on them. However, Spartan Claver would even things up nicely. Commander Simmons was still a wild card in Jason's eyes. For all he knew, Simmons could be some elite super commando.

"What happened to the others who survived the crash?" Marlin followed up.

"I will show you the reason for our diminished numbers," Elutar answered, typing a code into a holopad station. A secure door hissed and opened, lighting up and singing its familiar tone. Walking in, Jason could see that the room was a security station overlooking a brig. Tensing up at the sight of the Covenant jail cells, Jason nervously walked up to the viewing window where Elutar stood. The strange thing about the brig was that it contained foliage and vegetation from the outside planet. "This is the cause of the deaths in our camp," Elutar spoke, gesturing towards the atrium before them. Jason and his crew looked blankly at the trees. It looked as if the trees had been transplanted into the giant room but from the damage Jason had witnessed from outside the ship, the trees could very well be growing through a hole in the hull.

"So what are we looking for?" Marcus asked, confused.

"Just watch," Elutar said, tapping the holographic control panel before him. Inside the atrium, the lights slowly dimmed. In seconds, the only source of light was a slight glow originating from the ceiling of the forested room.

"What was that?" Marlin asked, jumping back from the viewing window.

"What was what?" Marcus asked, moving closer to get a better vantage point.

"I saw something just now, moving through the brush," Jason admitted.

"I didn't see anything," Darius said.

"See there it is again!" Marlin whispered pointing to the left into the darkness, his sniper sight tracking movement through the atrium.

"I don't see it," Darius insisted.

"I saw it," Jason affirmed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Now the question is, what is it?" Nodding, Elutar motioned them to follow him though another door on the far side of the security post. As the doors parted, a ray of light sailed between them, causing quite a ruckus in the brig/atrium. Entering a well lit purple room, Jason jumped slightly, startled at the sight before him.

Spartan Claver stood over a mangled form in the center of the room.

"Do not worry, the beast is dead," Elutar reassured, misinterpreting Jason's surprise. The rest of the _Fireflys_ filed into the room and the doors to the brig slid closed. Laying prostrate on what seemed to be an examination table was a gigantic beast. The well muscled frame was covered with white spines that reflected the light in the room in a way that distorted its body into a shape more hideous than what it probably was.

"If you look closely, you will notice that this beast is covered in transparent spines," Elutar started. "The pseudo-metallic spines diffuse ambient light and, when they are wet, can refract and reflect light in a way that makes the _Ki-Shin _nearly invisible to the unaided eye. Even when dry, in the dense forest, their skin mirrors the plants and trees around them, making it extremely difficult to follow, especially when they attack in packs which, let me assure you, they almost always to do. Finding any less than four of them in one place is a blessing from the Gods." Elutar moved to the cadaver and shifted one of the arms, turning over a large paw so it faced upwards. "As you can see, the beast is a natural hunter. These claws here can strike down a shieldless elite in a single blow." Looking closer, Jason could pick out three long fierce looking cone-shaped claws.

Thinking back to the sun-painted pastel lines in the sky when they first entered the Covenant camp, Jason presumed that night had probably fallen. No wonder the Covenant troops had insisted they move quickly. Such a predator would be a nightmare to face after dusk.

"I see you have been introduced to our planet's inhabitants," Ra'kellesh announced, stepping into the room from a side entrance. The Commander Simmons followed shortly behind him. "I can tell you first hand that they are not most welcoming to house guests." Elutar nodded.

"From what this human Commander has told me," Ra'kellesh said, speaking to Elutar, "their ship may have a functioning Slipspace drive that we can incorporate into one of our recon patrol craft." Jason was not sure if the worty noises Elutar was emitting indicated excitement or happiness.

"We must move quickly then," Elutar started. "The crash may have startled the _Ki-Shin_ for the time being, but they'll probably grow curious after a day or two."

"I concur," Ra'kellesh agreed. "The Commander Simmons has men defending their ship and both Za'tuluki and U'biques remained as well. However, for the time being, we should show our new friends to some accommodations. There is little we can do once darkness has fallen." The polite elite turned to Jason. "It will be nice to have the chambers in use once again. Hopefully it will be only for one night and not a moment longer."


	22. Chapter 22 Truth

"Now that they know that _Entrenors _still exist within the Covenant, the information that they hold concerning Halo is no longer exclusive. They can focus on escape rather than survival."

"Back up a second," Darius interrupted. "Who are these "_Entrenors_" I keep hearing about?"

"They are heretics," the Spartan answered. "The _Entrenors_ are a small group of Covenant detractors spawned from this very expedition."

"It seems like you know a lot more about what is going on here than you've been letting on," Jason surmised, walking forward toward the green clad soldier. "The safety of my men is at stake here so you're going to tell us everything you know."

The armored cyborg was unfazed by the Captain's advance. "I will disclose only information directly related to the current circumstances necessary to preserve this mission."

"What mission?" Jason asked.

"That is classified," Claver answered.

Darius stood up from the cushioned sleeping station but Jason waved him down. "You are aware that I have Section 4 clearance, right?" Jason asked. The Spartan nodded. "Then how about this: SFS eyes only, level one security clearance, operating code Bravo Gamma one one eight Charlie, sub access code Firefly six eight Delta seven."

The Spartan remained silent. After an awkward moment, Jason opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

"Tristina has remotely confirmed your clearance credentials," Claver answered. If a mechanized voice could sound annoyed, Claver's did.

"Then tell us what's going on here," Jason demanded, remembering how much he hated bureaucracy instilled safeguards.

"A Covenant Class-C recon force discovered this Halo ring years ago. After performing a full system scan of the ring, they sent two expeditions down to the surface. Upon landing, the first exploratory force was approached by the ring overseer and, subsequently, was attacked. Apparently, a number of Covenant forces managed to escape the slaughter, hole up in an underground control center, and transmit the Halo ring's schematic blueprints shortly before they were eliminated. During their last stand, they sent word that the ring was not what they originally thought it was – that in reality it was a weapon capable of mass destruction.

The second exploratory force remained cloaked as Sentinel drones surrounded the three capital cruisers in the recon force and vaporized them. Distress transmissions were sent out immediately but no response was ever received, due to the black hole radiation, gravity fluxes, and nebula interference.

The _Prophet's Fist_ was damaged when the capital ships' plasma reactors went critical. They crash landed here."

Claver looked around to see if the _Fireflys_ were following the story. "Upon review of the ring schematics, it was confirmed that the Halo was, in fact, capable of creating a destructive blast that could obliterate all living organisms within tens of thousands of light years. Upon learning this, three Elites were dispatched in the single remaining ship capable of Slip Space travel. They were selected to inform the Covenant about the truth of Halo.

However, what they…"

"Well what I want to know," Jason interrupted, "is how you knew about these _Entrenors_, Halo rings _and_ the coordinates of this location _before_ we even arrived."

Straightening up and facing forward, Claver stepped forward toward the Captain. To most, the hulking green figure would have been intimidating. Jason stood his ground, squinting, as if narrowing his eyes would allow him to see through the golden photoreflective Spartan visor.

"You, of all people, should know these answers," Claver answered.

Jason's squint turned into a glare, not taking to the riddle. "All I know is that ever since you and Commander Simmons stuck your High Command noses into our business, we've been dodging bullets from every direction. I know that you and Simmons probably have some hidden agenda of your own. I know that the odds of a randomized Slip Space jump leading us to this specific location are billions to one." Jason pointed to a purple and blue insignia stamped on the side of Claver's helmet. "I know that all UNSC Spartans developed under the "official" Spartan project would never use thermal imaging gear manufactured by Niffer Tech and, most importantly, I know that I _really_ don't like you."

In response, the Spartan began coughing, emitting an electronic wheezing noise that caused Jason to back up a step. After a moment, Darius walked forward, anger scrawled across his features.

"What's so damn funny?" he demanded. Jason looked back at the convulsing Spartan, realizing that Claver was laughing, not coughing.

"If you were half as smart as you are pompous, you would realize that the answers are sitting right in front of you," the Spartan cackled.

"Then if I already have all the answers, I'm sure that you wouldn't be breaking protocol if you were to disclose them," Jason shouted back, desperate to understand a situation where he felt he was rapidly losing control.

"You want the truth?" the Spartan yelled back, the electronic voice cracking over the MJOLNIR armor's external com.

"Yes I do!" the Captain affirmed.

"You can't handle the truth!" Claver bellowed.

"Try me!" Jason challenged, stepping forward as if he could intimidate the Spartan.

"We're here because he was withholding critical information," Claver attested, an armored finger pointing out at Marcus. Marcus looked up with a wide-eyed expression of shock.

Claver continued. "Tristina glossed his data pad files when he was jacked into the _Disparage's _system repair console and found these coordinates that were stolen from the Covenant listening post on Horex. When we had to jump, she just borrowed them. Only afterward did she check the origin of the source files." Claver straightened and turned square to Jason. "If you hadn't retained that information from us, we could have already won this war!"

"Oh, since when did unintelligible signals beamed from black holes become keys to winning the war?" Jason demanded, hoping Claver wouldn't press the fact that Marcus' actions broke nearly every military code in the book.

"Maybe when there's a multi-year time drag on said transmissions?" the Spartan shot back, speaking as if an elementary student could have figured it out. "These black holes cause a seven year differential on the space-time continuum. Those communications logs you were withholding could have been decoded and reconstructed in seconds."

By this point, Jason's head was spinning. He knew the basics of Space-Time Differentials and how, in theory, black holes could bend the universal fabric in ways that skewed time and space, not completely unlike Slip Space drives. If there was a seven year differential, it explained why the Covenant listening post never followed up on the stray signal. With the amount of encoding they used on their channels, the message would have come across as a garbled mess.

"How would you have known to reconstruct it by taking in a seven year differential into account?" Jason countered. "That's not exactly normal protocol, now is it?"

"For my division, it is."

"Oh, and what division is that?" Jason shouted sarcastically.

"That is classified information," the Spartan responded.

"Bullshit!" Jason spat. Both Darius and Marcus sat by idly, watching as their CO picked a fight with the Spartan. "You're not helping anybody by keeping secrets right now."

"Do you really think so?" Claver asked, the digital voice almost inaudible. The sudden absence of raised voices caused the room to become stuffy and even more uncomfortable.

Only Jason's cold stare answered the question. With a soft hiss, the air tight seals around Claver's helmet released. Green armored hands slowly drew the helmet off of battle hardened shoulders. Marcus let out a quiet gasp and even Jason felt the air in his throat catch slightly.

Spartan Claver would have been beautiful if the right portion of her face had not been constructed of stainless alloy. One piercing green eye met Jason's gaze, icy and cold, void of emotion and humanity. Blond hair was cropped military short up to where it met the metal plate that covered much of the front of her forehead. A red diode was placed where her left eye would have been.

"Niffer Tech has special modifications that combine thermal imaging with electronic imaging," Claver spoke. Her lips were pale and thin, yet still feminine. Her chin was delicately shaped and her cheeks were a bit sunken. Jason knew that she would have been a very striking woman if not for her disfiguration.

The look she gave Jason made him extremely uncomfortable, like she knew something about him that even he was not aware of.

"So, you still think you can handle the truth?" she asked, her voice barely audible as it lightly floated through the air without the microphone enhancement.

Jason nodded, his senses slowly returning to him.

"I killed your brother," Claver whispered, her green eye piercing Jason to the bone.

In one smooth motion, Jason drew his sidearm, leveled it at the Spartan, and fired.

* * *

I hope everybody is enjoying (and understanding) the story so far! If you are, please feel free to leave some reviews. I love feedback! 


	23. Chapter 23 Gold Albatross

"What about Canastas?" Nathanial asked his older brother, not quite a demand, but delivered with a firmness that only an experienced Admiral would know how to instill.

"Why it had to happen," Terry answered back. "Why I had to gamble the lives of 84 men for something that might save the rest of humanity."

Nathanial gave his brother a blank stare. "The lives spent were worth the diversion. They managed to pull the perimeter defenses back far enough for you to raid the Covenant supply convoy. The technology you seized has helped save that handful of lives more than a thousand times over." Nathanial kept his wits, trying to remain neutral and objective.

Terry looked down and shook his head. "I just want to say that I am sorry," he began.

"You've already said enough," Nathanial snapped. "Jimmy gave his life for something that he believed in. And Jennifer would have left me eventually, regardless." It had been a long while since Nathanial had voiced his ex-wife's name. Jimmy, their nephew, had been one of the soldiers who never made if off of Canastas. After Jimmy's death, Jennifer decided she had had enough of the military lifestyle and left Nathanial to move in with her sister.

"Well, do you know why Jimmy's squad was chosen for the mission?" Terry asked, noticing that Nathanial was doing his best to keep his cool.

"Because you wanted the best," was Nathanial's answer. Not really an answer as much as it was an automated response.

"No, he was chosen because his CO pissed off the wrong man," Terry corrected.

Nathanial's expression morphed into confusion. "What did the CO do to piss you off?" he asked, his tone hovering between neutrality and anger.

"I didn't pick the men. You know I would never send Jimmy to his death like that," Terry said, wondering if it had been a good idea to vocalize such an accusatory statement. Nathanial answered with another point blank stare. "I didn't pick the men, I didn't pick the mission, I didn't pick the strategy, I didn't pick anything."

"So who was giving orders to an Admiral?" Nathanial responded, knowing well that only the Council, ONI, or High Command could dictate commands like that. "So, who was it?" Nathanial looked up to see a face that his brother almost never wore.

"I honestly don't know," the elder admiral gave. "I've sunk all my resources into trying to figure that out. He was from ONI, a certain special operative called Brett Ferguson." Knowing now that he had Nathanial's attention, Terry strolled over to the mini-bar and poured himself a tumbler of aged scotch, dropping a duo of ice cubes into the mix. He turned and raised amber bottle toward Nathanial, who nodded. No sane person would turn down an Admiral's scotch only hours before they jumped into their doom. Even if that Admiral was a brother one had hated for the past half decade.

"So, after hitting several dead ends, I reached the conclusion that Brett Ferguson was a ghost in the system – a ghost with extremely well doctored credentials." Terry offered the sense numbing drink to Nathanial." However, our specter was sighted in several other subsequent venues. I tracked him as Jasper Williams, ONI operative, Travis Sunder, ONI Special Service and, most recently, Marthquad Simmons of High Command." The color slowly drained from Nathanial's face, then he slowly drained the tumbler of scotch and coughed. He tapped the glass twice on the hardwood end table and Terry promptly topped it off.

"So what does this guy have against me?" Nathanial asked after polishing half of the newly refilled tumbler. He sat down on an overstuffed red velvet chair and eyed the bottle of exceptional scotch. 2120 Gold Albatross. _Terry always had exquisite taste…and the means to satisfy it._

"Not against you. Against me," Terry answered. "Against me and every other person in the UNSC that is 'contributing to the downfall of human kind.' Let me tell you, this is one guy you don't want to cross. Screw up his plans and you're in a world of hurt. I'm lucky that the raid on the convoy yielded such valuable results, otherwise I would have been in line for a court marshal."

"What do you mean? You had completely reliable intel outlining the cargo manifests. Even if the raid had turned sour, High Command would have understood. Court marshal? You've got to be kidding."

Terry shook his head and took another sip of scotch. "The cargo was never the mission. That intel was completely fabricated."

Nathanial nursed his drink within milliliters of its life and set the glass on the table next to the chair. Terry motioned to the bottle again but Nathanial waved him off. No matter how much he'd rather finish off the exquisite amber liquid, he still had to have his wits about him for what was about to ensue.

"So tell me, what was this mission that you had to keep secret? Something that could have explained to me…something I could have explained to Jennifer…" Nathanial knew that his brother could see through any lie he fronted anyway so he threw in all the cards since it seemed like Terry was prepared to do the same, revealing them one at a time.

"The real mission was to contact a faction in the Covenant that, supposedly, was willing to defect from them due to some differences in religious dogma. The raid on the convoy was supposed to be the actual diversion. However, the plan backfired. For reasons beyond me, the Covenant recalled all their forces to the planet. A secondary taskforce of mine was supposed to jump in-system and pull our men out after the meeting with the Covenant defectors took place, but with all the ships defending Canastas, such a move would have been suicide. I was forced to order them to stand down." Nathanial sat on the velvet chair, taking his brother's words in. Terry continued.

"Ferguson, or Simmons, or _whoever_, had compiled enough twisted evidence during the mission to pin the entire fiasco on me. If I hadn't managed to capture two freight cruisers packed with Covenant technology, I'd probably be working some patrol duty on in the outer systems." The look on Terry's face conveyed that he couldn't be more serious. "Ferguson said that if I knew what was good for me, I would not reveal what had actually transpired."

"So you kept your mouth shut in order to save your own hide?" Nathanial asked, not really believing his own words but angry enough to let them slip by.

"Well, that was a small variable in the equation, but without the powers of this position, I would have been hard pressed to track our ghost friend." Terry finished his drink and moved the bottle of Gold Albatross back to the mini-bar.

"The facts of the matter are as such: this "ghost" seems to have an unlimited number of identities and access codes at his disposal, however, they are obtained through the same back door in the mainframe computer systems." Nathanial nodded slowly. "I set traps at several of the known entrances and exits. Only one of them was ever tripped. The rest were avoided, which means one thing."

Nathanial answered. "AI."

"Yes, a highly developed and very expensive AI," Terry agreed. "Now I have seen work like this before on a few different occasions. Of course, HC, ONI and the Council all have the ability to pull such stunts, but I have a very strong feeling that our friend is not related to any of these organizations." Terry reached over to his desk and pulled out a data pad.

"Now, I have a list here of individuals who are known to have access to said AI technology." Terry tilted the data pad so Nathanial could see a scrolling list of names and profiles. "Then I cross referenced them with reports or unpublished reports of the individuals that have been known to use AI technology for unauthorized or underauthorized use." About a third of the list jumped into a new category.

Nathanial scanned the list of high ranking officers and civilians. General Hathaway, Councilor Chester (civ), Rear Admiral S. Perkins. The list scrolled to the top where sat the names Dr. Hasley (civ), Col. Akerson.

"So what have you gathered from this list?" Nathanial asked.

Terry sighed slightly. "Unfortunately, beyond mere speculation, this is where the trail ends. AI technology has become so advanced that they are almost impossible to track."

"Except by other AI programs," Nathanial corrected. "And with your resources, I have no doubt you could enlist the help of a counter-intrusion AI."

"And as you probably noticed, my name is not on any of the lists you just saw. I prefer to keep it that way. Using an intuitive AI to poke around in HC and ONI safeguards is not something I'm prepared to do, but…"

"But you know that if I knew, I would have no problem with tracking this guy down," Nathanial finished.

"Yet another reason I couldn't tell you the truth. In my research, another individual that lit up the boards with unauthorized AI use was one Vice-Admiral Nathanial Hawkins." Nathanial half hid a grin.

"I was surprised when I didn't see my name on your list," he said.

"Yes, well, I rerouted the cyber trails and tied them back to our friend Brett Ferguson." Nathanial's half smile inadvertently turned into a full sized smirk.

"Well, don't I feel like the galaxy's biggest ass now…" the younger brother said, realizing that his older brother had done nothing but do his best to look out for him. Terry walked forward and gave a shrug.

"Maybe the third or fourth biggest," he joked, extending his arms. Nathanial gave him a friendly sucker punch, making his older brother cough slightly.

"I was actually hoping for a hug…" he started to say. Before he could finish, Nathanial embraced his older brother and, for one rare time in a war that had killed so many, a family became whole again.

Marlin smiled, keeping the humor of his handiwork to himself. The rough translation software developed by the folks in Encryption had the option of voice output modification. Marlin had never played with all the available options but making Jackals sound like the famous actress Joselyn Citas was something he would never had tried under normal circumstances.

"If you scope in, you can see them among the trees," the familiar, feminine voice purred. Marlin already had one of the monstrous _Ki-Shin_ in his sights. He took the opportunity to see how well the alien predator's metal hide stood up to .50 caliber high-penetration rounds.

The speeding sniper bullet cut through the _Ki-Shin_ with little difficulty. An explosion of yellow could be seen with the help of the outer perimeter lighting. The Grunts manning the plasma turrets cried out in glee. The Jackal sniper emitted a sound of approval. It shuffled up over Marlin and asked in a famous voice, "Do you have a supply of additional ammunition?" Marlin had five extended clips on his utility belt and a tightly packed satchel back in their assigned sleeping quarters. The _Disparage_ had an even larger supply, granted they ever made it back.

"I have enough," Marlin answered, propping the bipod up on the ledge of the walkway wall and preparing for the Jackal's challenge. The Jackal perched itself on a purple crate next to Marlin and readied its beam rifle. Even the Elite Elutar was curious enough to wander closer, keeping his other eye shifting between the Grunts and the perimeter of the forest.

"Ready?" the Jackal asked. Marlin zoomed in to 10x magnification and waited.

"Go!"

The explosions had sounded over twenty minutes ago. They were either the perimeter charges or the anti-tank mines in the hangar. Only silence since then. Eighteen minutes with no word from Carlyle. The blue Elite U'biques seemed to sense her anxiety.

"I'm going," Samantha finally said, standing up from behind the makeshift bunker in the tight hallway and swinging one shotgun over her shoulder while bringing another to her hip, Samantha hailed Rachel and Joshua.

"Any news on Carlyle?" Rachel responded.

"No, but I'm going to find out right now."

Unsure of what to do, U'biques called out in a hushed voice. "Should I come with you or wait here?"

Samantha had no time to baby-sit the Elite. "Do what you want," she replied and turned the corner down toward the hangar. The clinking footsteps behind her told her that U'biques was following a few meters behind. Samantha came to a pressure locked door and quietly hit the manual release. Stepping over the door's threshold and onto the metal grate floor beyond, she could hear the muffled sound of magnum fire. Quickening her step, Rachel hurdled over a mess of crates in the hallway and rounded another corner.

Yellow blood was spattered all over the walls, dripping down through the grate floor and onto the utility pipes that ran beneath it. In some areas, red blood was mixed in. Further down the corridor laid a pile of _Ki-Shin_ bodies. Samantha cautiously approached them to investigate when a strong grip latched onto her ankle. Nearly falling, she swung herself around, prepared to blow anything away with her shotgun. It was Carlyle lying on the floor almost completely hidden behind a partially removed access panel.

"We're getting you out of here," she stated, grabbing his wrist and heaving him up. Carlyle resisted, bringing his finger up to his faceplate and motioning Samantha to be quiet. The sound of screeching metal could be heard as a large shadowy figure came rushing around the corner.

"Shit!" Samantha cried, pulling on Carlyle harder. Moving quicker than she could have ever guessed, the _Ki-Shin_ was upon them in a second. Luckily, U'biques was there to intercept, his energy blade severing the monster into three pieces before it even hit the floor. More noise could be heard from around the corner.

"Take him!" Samantha ordered, placing Carlyle's arm in U'biques's grasp. "Now!" Taking the order to heart, the Elite wrenched Carlyle from his hiding spot and began dragging him back to engineering. As the duo rounded the corner, Samantha hit the release on the interior hallway's blast shutter. The shutter began its slow decent. _Too slow_ Samantha knew.

Whipping around to face back down the hallway, she found herself face to face with another _Ki-Shin_. Her shotgun exploded and the monster was sent staggering back. At the same time, Samantha flew backward, slamming into the wall and falling hard to the floor. Quickly regaining her senses, Samantha climbed back to her feet. She eyed the _Ki-Shin_ she had just blasted, noting that it was bleeding in several areas. Thick yellow blood dripped off many of its spines.

After glancing over herself, Samantha saw that she was also bleeding. Shotgun pellets were lodged in parts of her armor. Some had managed to penetrate the suit's unarmored joints. She looked back at the _Ki-Shin_. Some of the shotgun blast had penetrated the animal's coat of metallic spines but the rest had ricocheted and been sent right back at her. The _Ki-Shin_ growled and barred its menacing teeth, cautious about the new threat. Slowly and deliberately, the monster moved forward toward Samantha.

Dropping to a knee to minimize her profile, Samantha leveled her shotgun and aimed at the approaching alien's chest. The second shotgun shell sent both combatants to the floor. The _Ki-Shin_ was spun around and into a wall, falling hard. Samantha was sent straight onto her back. The visor on her helmet was cracked and she already could feel a choking sensation in her throat. Turning her head to the side she could see the _Ki-Shin_ grab the handholds in the wall and pull itself to its feet. Using all her strength, Samantha rolled and used the floor to push herself up. The _Ki-Shin_ was already approaching again.

_Poor bastard_, Samantha thought to herself. _He'd just stay down if he knew what was good for him_. Propping the shotgun over her knee, Samantha let the _Ki-Shin_ close to within two meters. With a slight cough, Sam managed to laugh.

"Son, you don't know who you're dealin' with here," she choked. The _Ki-Shin_ roared in defiance, rearing back to strike down the creature that had instilled such fiery pain in it.

Samantha smiled and fired.


	24. Chapter 24 Truth, Death, and Betrayal

The Spartan was fast. Not fast enough to dodge a bullet from point blank range, but fast enough to break Jason's wrist as he fired. The pistol round sparked as it ricocheted from the tough green MJOLNIR armor and off a wall, causing Marcus and Darius to hit the dirt. With a little more force than was necessary, the Spartan warrior shoved the Lieutenant Captain to the floor. The expression on Jason's face seemed devoid of anything but anger.

"If your brother hadn't interfered, we might have won this war years ago," Claver spoke. "We could have driven a wedge of dissent through the Covenant and saved millions of human lives." Though voice was still mechanized, somehow after seeing the Spartan's face, it sounded slightly more human. And feminine.

"Funny how things seem to go wrong when the people you're working with are kept in the dark," Jason returned, staring up at the Spartan, his unharmed hand resting on the Magnum holstered at his thigh.

Claver's disfigured scowl disappeared behind her green helmet, the golden visor shielding Jason from the icy stare that seemed to be devoid of all life. A short moment later, the air around the armor encased soldier became electric as the MJOLNIR shields powered up.

"For as long as you've been in the forces, I'm surprised you haven't figured out yet that you know absolutely nothing more than what people like Simmons and Hawkins need you to," Claver spoke, sounding like a teacher talking down to a naughty student. Jason blinked, but the startling eyes, one a cold green and the other, a burning artificial red, remained forever etched into the back of his mind. "You still don't even know what you're doing here," the Spartan said with a sneer. Jason had no response as the Claver turned and exited the room.

The doors slid shut and two BR55's lowered from behind the cover of the cushioned sleeping pads. Jason looked down at his wrist. It was definitely broken, but it was a clean break. Darius set down his rifle and began digging through the med satchel for the bone fuser. He slid a stimjector of painkillers across the purple floor. Jason pressed the needle against his neck and injected the numbing chemicals. They didn't make him feel any better.

hr 

With the help of Tristina working within the Covenant communications array, the message had been sent, slightly adjusted to counteract the time/space displacement, and would probably arrive on the secure networks of a half dozen high officials in five days' time. The encrypted message contained all information that had been gathered on the Halo ring and its location, along with some security codes that could hopefully be used to contact any remaining dissenters within the Covenant. Simmons just hoped that there would be a human left to receive the message. The Covenant could have already glassed Earth for all he knew.

The amassed Covenant fleet poised to attack the human home world had been many times larger than Simmons had ever imagined. When he had sent out an emergency broadband com flare to all ONI and Undercover OPS units in the vicinity of the Covenant rally point, he had been pleasantly surprised that there were over forty ships with nuclear towing capacity within a thirty-six light hour radius. He had thought that with that kind of power, the nuclear minefield traps would cripple the strike force.

In the end, he may have destroyed a small percentage of the Covenant armada, far from the crippling blow he was hoping for. Unbeknownst to him, his tactics had assisted in causing enough turmoil to allow a Spartan named John and his team to slip in and deliver the real devastation. However, that was not within the scope of his vision, nor his most immediate concern.

Simmons had become an expert at wriggling his way out of tight situations, but he usually enjoyed the benefit of having a plethora of resources to tap into. Now, not only was he completely cut off, but he had to rely on the incompetent remnants of the human and Covenant forces to get off the planet alive. Placing his life in the hands of others was top on the list of things Simmons hated doing. He knew that the uneasy, rolling pain in his stomach would not go away until he had reasserted control over the situation.

In such a predicament, many other men would have been somber knowing how the odds were stacked against them. Simmons only saw opportunity: opportunity of a vast ring world bristling with unknown technological treasures. The rolling green land meeting up against lapping blue waters was an untapped resource that he could use to save humanity; a treasure locked away between spinning nebula and black holes for ages – a treasure for which only he held the key: Claver.

From the message that had been sent from the Eridanus system, he knew that the Spartan warrior would be recognized as a "Reclaimer." Whatever that meant, it seemed to carry a type of status that he could use to his advantage. If he could convince the ring overseers to share their technology, humanity would be able to leapfrog the Covenant on the battlefront in a year or maybe less. The question now was whether or not to let anyone else know his plan.

The Covenant dissenters would never agree to the mission. Simmons could tell that the last thing they wanted to do was land on the damned ring. Their only focus was to reattach with the other dissenters that could still be hiding within the Covenant ranks and expose the truth about the Halo rings and The Great Journey.

Knowing Jason and his crew, he was confident that the _Fireflys_ would quickly take matters into their own hands if they sensed Simmons was playing with any cards up his sleeve. Simmons barely gave a second thought as he sent a second message from the Covenant ship's communications array. This transmission was directed at the ring world.

_The Reclaimer has arrived. Under attack. Assistance required. Extraction needed for two bio signatures enclosed. Eliminate all others._

Simmons sent Clavers' and his own bio signatures, marked high priority. Just in case, he had Tristina perform a bio scan of all other life forms in the near vicinity. The remaining humans and Covenant forces lit up the board as their bio data was calculated and uploaded with the message. Simmons tagged these signatures as _hostile_. And then he smiled.

hr 

The scwarbling screeching noises were translated by the audio input system in Marlin's helmet. The experience of receiving praise from a Jackal was as alien to Marlin as their appearance. Normally, the ugly buggers were only in his scope for a few moments before he sent them along on their "Great Journey" with a high velocity .50 caliber round, but this particular Jackal was grunting words of encouragement.

Marlin's rifle seemed to bring the _Ki-Shin_ monsters down a little easier than the Jackal's outdated beam rifle. However, that didn't keep the alien from landing head shot after head shot. It only took a moment of watching for Marlin to realize and accept that the Jackal was a better marksman. _But that's considering he doesn't have to deal with bullet drop or wind conditions_ Marlin considered. Either way, the veteran human sniper was glad that this particular Jackal was on their side. _Living for years on this real life shooting gallery will probably give you a lot of time to practice_ Marlin concluded.

With a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Marlin squinted through his scope as he saw the shimmering forms of two _Ki-Shin_ pass each other in the tree line's brush. The Jackal saw it as well and waited patiently for the shot. Marlin's S2 AM spat fire and one single round exploded through the head of one _Ki-Shin_ and into another. Both forms fell to the ground. The Jackal made a sound that was translated as a gruff laugh and sent a purple beam into the trees. Another _Ki-Shin_ fell from the heights.

The shooting party was interrupted by Elutar's cries of angry surprise. Marlin and the Jackal lowered their guns. Adjusting his focus to where the Elite was pointing, Marlin observed a large storm cloud that seemed to be rapidly approaching from the east. But it was coming too fast to be a storm. Marlin shouldered his rifle and zoomed into 10x magnification. Riding the wave of yellow dawn over the alien planet like harbingers of the new day drifted a massive cloud of metal. Marlin instinctively fell to a knee to line up a shot for when the incoming targets came into range. One of the surprised grunts adjusted his plasma turret's sights on the newcomers and let loose a blue salvo of burning plasma.

There were several small explosions as the stream of energy nibbled away at the approaching storm. In Marlin's scope, he watched as several individual floating machines grouped together. Gold shimmering shields appeared around the small clumps of Sentinels, easily absorbing the splashing blue death. Marlin panned over to a larger grouping of about fifteen slivers of silver. A hot angry point of energy burned brightly off the prow of the interconnected mass.

"Shit, get down!" Marlin exclaimed as a searing laser reached out from not so distant thunderhead and vaporized the plasma turret, along with the grunt and a large portion of the thick purple barricade, turning it into bubbling, melting slag. Marlin looked at the Jackal and learned that the expression for surprise and fear was definitely universal. "To the ship!" the Jackal barked, performing an about face and grabbing the nearest ladder to the rock ground below the outer walls.

Marlin slung the sniper rifle strap around his shoulder and followed suit, grabbing vertical bars of the purple ladder and sliding down with reckless precision. Elutar simply jumped the distance to the ground, his shields flaring with white anger as the Elite broke into a dead sprint. Lances of light were now slicing through the outer wall and raking across the inner courtyard. Marlin felt a pang of fear blossom within him as one of the searing beams traced past and completely evaporated the Jackal sniper that was off to his side.

A moment later, it felt as if a sun had exploded under his boots. Searing hot pain engulfed his body like a shower of fire. But it only hurt for a short moment.

hr 

Claver was only seven when she had been abducted and forced into the Spartan training program. There had been twelve others in the beginning. Now she was the last. Though she was still young at the age of 23, her body had undergone so many physical and neural realignments and enhancements that it was impossible for anybody to guess the number just by looking at her. Not that anybody really wanted to see the broken shell that remained after years of secret service to Simmons. The twelve others died for him and she would too.

In reality, only four of the original 13 even survived to wear a suit of MJOLNIR armor. The other three had been strategically squandered in a number of other high-risk secret operations. Simmons had created a small Spartan training facility in the lower levels of some far off planet that was probably dusty and abandoned by now. An AI (one of Tristina's predecessors) had sliced into the work files of Dr. Hasley immediately after Simmons had seen the fruits of her labor. The Spartans were new and flashy _and_ effective. Of course he had to have some for himself.

Now she was the last. And once she served her final purpose, whatever that may be, there would be no tears, no thanks, and no record. And Claver didn't care. Life was nothing to get sentimental about - not others', not her own.

Later, she would ask herself what spontaneous urge had prompted her to speak the words to the Lieutenant Captain Jason Majszak. Maybe cold calculating curiosity. Maybe pity. Maybe a way to prolong his pain and suffering, or transfer a piece of her own pain onto another for them to bear, for them to feel what she had felt for 16 long years so she could know that she was not completely alone in the universe.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. The action was all that amounted to anything. Purpose had no purpose here on the battlefield.

Her heavy, even footsteps could be heard reverberating off of the purple alloy floor on their way to the open hangar on the port side of the ship. Explosions filled in on the steps' off beats, the timber of debris colliding with the spacecraft's hull creating an exotic beat.

"It would be beneficial to you and your men if you engaged the bio sheath technology on your armor," she spoke over a secure short range transceiver. She closed the channel before Jason had time to respond.

The blast doors to the hangar slid open, admitting the Spartan alone. The purple barrier closed and locked as Claver entered. No doubt Tristina was still in the ship's network, sealing off all the corridors leading to the launch bay.

Standing near the shielded hangar bay portals was Simmons, surrounded by a squadron of Sentinels and a much smaller, floating machine that glowed blue and chattered with a voice full of curiosity and startling happiness.

"Oh you were right, the Reclaimer has arrived!" it chirped, zooming over to Claver and inspecting her. "I see that the Reclaimer is equipped with only low grade containment articles," it said, sounding slightly disappointed, "but this day has been long awaited!" The glowing blue orb circled back around the vaulted ceiling of the hangar and stopped next to Simmons. The ONI officer removed a high capacity drive from the computer terminal to his left. No doubt, the drive contained Tristina. Simmons nodded to the floating metal sphere.

"Please prepare for transport," the alien device instructed. "Being so far from the power grid, we will have to borrow some energy."

The dozen Sentinels floated around Simmons and Claver in a circle, blue energy crackling from one to another, the hot bolts skipping off their shiny silver plates like a generator coil. "Sufficient power for transport will be achieved in three, two, one…"

In a golden shimmer of light, the three forms disappeared.


End file.
